He had been driving for more than forty years. Through early mornings and late nights. Through ce...

He had been driving for more than forty years. Through early mornings and late nights. Through celebrations, emergencies, routines, and rituals. Driving was not just a skill for him—it was muscle memory. Identity. Independence. Then Parkinson’s entered his life quietly. A slight tremor at first. A pause where there had never been one. Over time, the disease began to interfere with the very coordination that driving demands—timing, judgment, reaction. One day, the doctor looked at him and said ge