I vividly remember walking, then sprinting back from the mailbox after I’d torn open the envelope addressed to me from the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles. It contained my NY State Drivers License, printed on thin blue cardboard. After seeing that little blue slip, I bolted the rest of the way up the driveway to my father that May. He was so proud and quickly agreed when I asked to take out the Pontiac Ventura, a classy Chevy Nova, for a ride. That feeling of freedom, the rush of adrenaline once I cleared the neighborhood and hit the accelerator, it’s never left. Since that Ventura, I’ve had a Road Runner, Mustang, motorcycles, convertibles, and even a Slingshot, and that feeling of freedom and rush of acceleration is still just as acute today.

Several years ago, my mom, whom I love dearly and who is in her eighties, had been diagnosed with a form of dementia. That month, we installed a tracker on her car in case of emergencies. While she has owned an iPhone for years, she has never quite grasped how maps work, and the GPS in her car met most of her needs. Last summer, my younger brother and I, along with her neurologist, had discussed with mom and determined that her condition had deteriorated to the point where she was no longer safe behind the wheel. While she easily carries on intelligent conversations about past and current events and can do fundamental math problems in her head, her reaction time and situational awareness had diminished to a point where she was at much greater risk behind the wheel than ever. Even though Mom was driving a bright red convertible, and she hadn’t yet gotten into an accident, a minor event triggered our path to this judgment. Also, we knew how much it would have torn her up if she had hurt someone else because of her condition. With the sale of her car and the surrender of her driver’s license, she has forever changed. That permanent loss of some measure of control has reduced her perception of self-worth and impacted her sense of dignity. It was a tough call. She has family, friends, and an aide to help her get out and run errands, but it’s not the same.

As we become adults, one of our most basic freedoms is being granted the privilege of driving whenever and wherever we want. With a simple twist of a key, placing our hands on the wheel, and shifting the car into gear, we’re in control, empowered to go wherever we like. Driving, at its very essence, is the ultimate example of power. When I talk about self-driving cars, especially with my generation and my mom’s, many become highly defensive, and I often hear, “I’ll never let a car drive me around.” Sure, my friends will quickly jump in the back seat of an Uber with a driver they’ve never met because a human is “in control.” Those same people, though, would be very reluctant, at this point, to be passengers in a driverless cab. They’ve said it point blank.

A few years into the future, we’ll be able to climb into a Tesla and say, “Take me to the market.” The car will open the garage, pull out, close the garage, and safely drop me off in front of the market a few miles and a dozen or so minutes later. When I’m done shopping, as I approach the check-out, I’ll tap a button in the Tesla app on my phone. As I exit the store, my car will pull up, I’ll put the groceries, then myself into the car, and then ask it to “take me home.” Which it will. As we roll into the garage, the vehicle will pull in and center itself over the inductive charging mat on the floor, then close the garage, unlock the doors, and pop the trunk and or frunk, depending on where it sensed I had placed the groceries. It may even then alert me via my watch or phone to empty those compartments if they remain open and full too long.

During the ride to the market, while the car is self-driving, I could make suggestions to change lanes, go slower or faster, and, in doing so, retain some degree of control over my artificially intelligent pilot. Much like an admiral might instruct the flagship’s captain.

I expect that a self-driving car will help me retain my freedom well beyond the point, several decades from now, when my safety behind the wheel will become a point of discussion. Mom would never accept a self-driving car, even if it helped her retain her freedom, because her understanding and grasp of technology were never strong enough. There is still sufficient mistrust in self-driving because driving is a complex task with many nuances that are hard to define and test. For example, snow-covered roads in a blizzard or oncoming emergency vehicles with lights and sirens. I’ve seen humans make incorrect responses in both these cases many times, yet we expect, no, we require, that our artificial intelligence engines do better, and they will.

The most significant value proposition of self-driving might be how it will extend our freedom to roam well beyond the point at which we are safe behind the wheel. Though I’d never advocate standing on the driver’s seat while the vehicle is in motion and self-driving!