Since having kids, I have come to resent the loss of our pettier freedoms and less complex ways of life the most. I certainly do not want my children to do some of the things that I did in, and with, cars, but I also recognize that there was something instructive in it. Driving a car is, paradoxically, one of the few acts where autonomy and unchosen obligation are held in some degree of harmony.
Human driving requires unending mutual predictions and constant accommodations for each other. It is in such experiences that we end up with something meaningful for life in the physical world and life in community.
This is a description of small-town life and the help you can expect to receive from people not conditioned to give strangers the finger.