Driving With My Knees

I don't understand it either. But I do it anyway.

Photo by Marjan Blan on Unsplash

Do you drive with your knees? I drive with my knees.

Not all the time, but sometimes. I realize that I should probably not admit this. I know that driving with my knees is unsafe. You could also call it lazy or stupid although lazy + stupid might = unsafe.

In any case, I am not going to argue or try to prove the contrary —that driving with my knees is safe, proactive, or smart—although it did occur to me to wonder whether driving with my knees is actually driving. Doing only rudimentary, personal research instead of trolling legal databases for an official definition, I concluded that driving with my knees is driving.

I am in a car. I am moving in the car. I am steering the car as it moves.
Therefore, I am driving—just  with my knees on the steering wheel instead of my hands.

Maybe a quick visual would help here . If the steering wheel were a clock, my knees would be at about seven and five. Sort of the antipode of driving with my hands where, in an ideal world of total compliance with the rules of the road, my left hand would be at about 10 and my right at about two.

But perhaps this sketch is not necessary and you know what I am talking about because you also drive with your knees. Anyone? Yes?

I am not trying to get anyone in trouble here. I am not going to snitch or scold. But I am inviting you to consider with me the phenomenon of doing things that we know are ill-advised or otherwise nonsensical.

So, why do I drive with my knees? One reason is that driving with my knees is relaxing for me, peaceful even. I know, I can imagine what you might be thinking . Yeah, peaceful until that truck takes me out after I’ve drifted into its lane!

That may happen. But until it does driving with my knees remains a calming endeavor, my left arm resting comfortably along the driver’s side door, my right arm on the center console.

It is not yet an activity associated with accidents. If that ever comes to pass, I may revisit and revise my assessment.

Driving with my knees is also convenient now and then. For example, sometimes I eat while I’m driving. Most things I can eat using one hand but occasionally I might need to involve both, and I will turn steering duties over to my knees.

In cold weather driving with my knees helps me keep my hands warm. I like to tuck them under my thighs or into my coat pockets. Yes, I am wearing gloves.

However, I have a condition called Raynaud syndrome. It is triggered by cold temperatures and causes reduced blood flow to extremities, such as fingers.

When the temperature starts to fall below 60, my fingers start to ice up and turn white. Gloves help. But tucking my hands under my legs or into pockets helps even more. I used to have a car with heated seats. Loved that! I sure do miss that feature.

I realize that in the scheme of things these knee-driving perks are slight and probably don’t outweigh the benefits of driving with my hands. In fact, another downside to driving with my knees is that it is inefficient.

I have yet to successfully execute a complete turn using my knees to steer my car. I can get about a third to halfway through a turn but then I have to switch to my hands to take over and finish it off.

I could eliminate this wasted movement if I would just drive with my hands, and this inefficiency makes a good case for me not to drive with my knees, especially since I am in general a person who appreciates efficiency. But somewhere my mind must be giving me a bye.

This gets to the nub of the matter, I think—the mystery of doing something that has no real advantage or anything to recommend it unequivocally, of persisting in behavior that’s dumb, counterproductive, or risky. Or all three.

Other examples come to mind. Why do I jaywalk? Unscrew a cap using my teeth? Yank the vacuum plug from the socket across the room? Put on my shoes without first untying them? Never wear a raincoat or use an umbrella when it’s raining?

I know that none of this behavior is in my best interest. I know that if I don’t wear a raincoat or use an umbrella when I go out in the rain I will get wet. But I do it anyway.

Considering all these inconsistencies I started to wonder if this sort of behavior has a name. I found something called cognitive dissonance. That occurs when an action does not align with or reflect one’s values or beliefs.

That seems pretty heavy for the behavior I am discussing. It appears to apply to behavior more along the lines of smoking, overeating, drinking too much, not exercising enough. That sort of thing.

I am not disappointed not to have an answer for why I drive with my knees. I can just continue to contemplate it as I am cruising around, driving with my knees.

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