Mother's Day is almost here and, though many a maternal figure would like to receive one, the odds of a mom getting a new car to celebrate this special Sunday are low. Despite the fact that moms spend a lot of time behind the wheel ferrying kids to and from never-ending practices and rehearsals, we don't normally consider mom when it comes to the automobile.
That's ironic. In many respects, the glory days of driving – the 1950s to 1970s – were also the glory days of mom drivers. When the world marched according to strict gender rules, the roads reflected this distribution of labour. Dad went to work. Mom stayed home. That meant that the bulk of the drivers on the road during business hours (with the exception of truckers and other transport workers) were moms darting around in family cars, such as the Chevy Nova or the Ford Country Squire, doing errands and minding children and, if shows such as Mad Men are to be believed, doing who knows what else. The car was a mom's best friend.
Traffic rolled smoothly, at least that's how many who grew up then nostalgically remember it. Makes you wonder if we should use gender – you know, regulate "women only" traffic hours – to solve congestion.
The truth is that the automobile has a special place in the lives of mothers just as much as it does for fathers. The cliché is that moms want safe, dependable rides with style and a little zip – minivans, SUVs, think the Subaru Forester or Toyota Sienna. If pressed, most moms would rather be cruising through Tuscany seated behind the wheel of an Alfa Romeo 4C Spider or a Porsche 718 Boxster S (at least for one afternoon now and then).
The main reason so many mothers love the automobile isn't because it's a convenient means of transport. Nope, they like that, when they are driving, good things happen.
For a mother with young kids, the car offers the ultimate opportunity for a mini-break. The kids are safely but lovingly restrained in their car seats. There is no need to chase them. Once secured, there is a good chance the children will fall asleep. Enter the drive-thru. A mom can indulge in a cappuccino or a tea without risking waking up her dozing dears. Nirvana by the dashboard light.
But more than anything else, mothers adore the automobile because, inside the confines of their Grand Caravan or Hyundai Sonata, they're able to say some variation of these golden words:
"I'm sorry, honey. I can't do that right now, mommy's driving."
When her children enter the tween and teen years (also known as the "age of attitude"), the automobile offers a mom's best chance for meaningful conversation. With all eyes pointing forward, there is no need for eye contact. No eye contact means the sullen teen whose answers are generally monosyllabic might open up a bit. These road trip revelations are welcome.
That's why the impending onslaught of self-driving vehicles should have mothers worried. In 2017, Volvo is set to test autonomous vehicles in London. The program (called Drive Me London) "will go a step further than other programmes by using real families driving autonomous cars on public roads. The manufacturer has conducted tests with the same vehicles in Gothenburg since 2014, and plans a parallel public trial in the Swedish city next year," according to The Guardian.
Self-driving cars will have WiFi – which kids can complain doesn't work or isn't fast enough, and will "enable" her to no longer be able to say, "I can't, honey. Mommy's driving." Seems a tragic loss. That sure doesn't seem like the sort of present moms around the world are hoping for.
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Andrew Clark