When I was a youth growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, I couldn't wait to get my driver's license. I turned 16, then impatiently waited another month to complete my driver's ed course. When I had my license in my hand, it was like holding a tiny piece of freedom. I could go to the movies or the bowling alley or to see my favorite musical (Co-Ed Prison Sluts, which incidentally is so good that it is Chicago's longest running musical), whenever I wanted to. Not that I had a car, but my parents generously let me use theirs.