Having grown up in the burbs of southwestern Ohio, I maintain a bizarre affinity for strip malls, craft smoothie shops, and Monte Carlo nights at neighborhood churches. One thing I don’t miss? The necessity of owning a car. Not having regular access to a motorized mode of transportation as a suburban 18-year-old was a kind of social maiming. Way too much waiting around for much cooler friends or, even worse, your much cooler mom to pick you up, and rarely getting a chance to explore a backseat with Jenny Cheerleader or Johnny Quarterback—unless, of course, you were able to borrow the minivan for the night.