[Tall-Corn] At Large Chapter

[cindyray at gmail.com]

Greetings at large members!

Tomorrow, July 16, is the meeting of our At Large Chapter. We will discuss
convention, along with the regular reports. Below is an article I wouldlike
all of you to read. It will appear after the Zoom information. 

See you tomorrow!

Cindy

 

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>From the Backseat to the Driver's Seat: A Federation Journey with Waymo

By Jordan Moon

>From the Editor: As a clarification of some information in the below
article, to use Waymo in Austin, Texas, readers will need to use the Uber
app and not the dedicated Waymo app. Any confusion on that point is the
fault of your humble editor, for which he apologizes, and not of the article
author.

We have all heard the jokes. "What are you, blind?" "Even a Blind Person can
See that!" "Blind people driving? Absolutely not!" Even in casual
conversation, blindness and driving are treated as the ultimate
contradiction-the joke that writes itself. Growing up, I laughed along
because I desperately wanted to fit in.

Like many blind people, I internalized the idea that not driving meant not
being fully independent. Drivers got licenses. We got IDs. Even compliments
carried low expectations: "Wow, you get around so well!" or "I honestly
don't know what I'd do if I couldn't drive."

I spent years trying to speed past those stereotypes. I played sports, sat
inches from televisions to play video games (some involving racecars), and
commented on clothes and appearances as though I could see them perfectly.
But when my friends started getting driver's licenses, I hit the one barrier
I could not fake my way around.

Pumping the Brakes On The Road of Expectations

Throughout my childhood and young adulthood, the inability to drive seemed
to shadow every major life decision. An orientation and mobility instructor
once told me a blind person could never teach cane travel. How would I pick
up my students and drive them around, let alone monitor them? Watching
friends, and eventually my younger brothers, get licenses only reinforced
the feeling that adulthood itself depended on driving.

Even at Arizona State University-Forks Up!-I quietly limited my own
ambitions. I convinced myself print journalism was my only option because I
could not drive to story locations or operate a camera. During job
interviews, employers would ask how I planned to get around without a car,
and I began wondering whether society's low expectations were right after
all. This self-doubt led to severe depression.

The Federation Drives The Change

It was not until I met the National Federation of the Blind in 2014 that I
realized the low expectations society had placed on me did not have to be my
own. Maybe there was a way I did not have to let my blindness define me. But
it still seemed almost too good to be true.

One of the first things that helped me embrace Federation philosophy was
learning about the Blind Driver Challenge. This initiative emphasized that
lack of eyesight was not the reason that blind people could not drive; the
problem was that technology had never been developed to give blind people
the information, through our other senses, to operate a motor vehicle safely
and independently.

In 2004, then-Federation President Dr. Marc Maurer challenged university
engineering teams to design a vehicle a blind person could independently
operate. Seven years later, on January 29, 2011, Mark Riccobono, who would
succeed Dr. Maurer as President in 2014, independently drove at the Daytona
International Speedway
<https://nfb.org/sites/nfb.org/files/images/nfb/publications/bm/bm11/bm1103/
bm110302.htm> , navigating obstacles randomly thrown into his path and even
passing another vehicle along the course. That demonstration changed how the
world viewed blind people and transportation technology. It also helped to
ensure that blind people were included in conversations about autonomous
vehicles from the very beginning.

Uber and Lyft: A New Lane, But Not Our Road

Life has a funny way of presenting something only when you are ready for it.
So it is fitting that in the same year I was introduced to the Federation
and the story of the Blind Driver Challenge, transportation for blind people
changed in a meaningful way. 2014 was the year blind people discovered the
power of ride-share services. Uber and Lyft shook up the transportation
arena like an earthquake. No more did we have to wait for a taxi that may or
may not show up. No more were we forced to-as here in Arizona-ride a bus in
100-degree heat to go two miles up the street simply because we were not
willing to pay the 15 dollars for a cab. Now, blind people had the power to
request a ride from their phone and go directly to their destination.

At the time, blind people were thrilled. I distinctly remember a friend of
mine taking an Uber to a random place just because he was so glad he could.
For years, Uber and Lyft have been great resources for our community and
have participated in many Federation events, including national and state
conventions.

Someone looking in from the outside might assume that since Uber and Lyft
arrived, life for blind people is all good now. Of course, we in the
Federation know differently. Even though transportation got easier,
defending our right to ride the way we want and need to definitely got
harder. Ride-share services introduced new barriers: How do we find our
vehicles? Is the app accessible? Would a driver really be okay transporting
a family with kids? But number one on this list-always-is the service animal
concern. Have a guide dog and want to take a ride-share? You may or may not
have a driver deny you. Of course, the Federation does not sit idle in the
face of discrimination. We held town halls, built tracking and reporting
mechanisms, and rallied at Uber and Lyft headquarters
<https://nfb.org/images/nfb/publications/bm/bm24/bm2411/bm241104.htm> . As
my Federation philosophy developed, it became clearer and clearer that good
enough is not good enough.

A Ride Into the Future

It was just two years after I became a Federationist that I was first
introduced to Waymo. Living in Arizona has its perks-sunny for most of the
year, no Daylight Saving Time, beautiful scenery, and tons of tech
innovation. In 2016, Waymo-operated by Alphabet, the parent company of
Google-was seeking feedback from blind people to test this emerging
technology. Somehow, I was invited to participate.

I vividly remember sitting in the backseat of that car as it drove-and being
completely shocked. Wow! At that time, state law still required a licensed
driver to be present in the front seat. So in the back of my mind, a
question lingered: was this a truly autonomous ride, or was I being fooled?
Being the skeptic I was, I asked the driver to prove the car was really
driving itself. It was only when we were making a turn and the driver
grabbed my hand with both of his, showing me his hands were completely off
the wheel, that the reality hit me. The car not only made a perfect turn on
its own, it merged into the center lane more smoothly than anything I had
ever experienced. Something became very clear that day: it was not just that
this technology was amazing. What became even clearer was that if it were
not for the Federation, and the work we put into making sure this technology
was inclusive, I would not have been in that car at all.

And yet, doubt crept in. There is no way this becomes mainstream, I thought.
In those early days, it was widely held that someone capable of manual
control needed to be present at all times. Waymo launched its Early Rider
program in the Phoenix area in 2017, began offering paid rides in late 2019,
and on October 8, 2020, officially opened its fully driverless service to
the public. For some, even then, it was hard to trust their lives to a
"robot."

Mapping the Route: How We Got Here

Between 2022 and 2024, Waymo rapidly expanded, opening to the public in San
Francisco and Los Angeles and significantly widening its Phoenix coverage.
In 2025, Waymo extended service to freeways in Phoenix, San Francisco, and
Los Angeles. Soon after, Waymo partnered with Uber to offer autonomous rides
in Austin and Atlanta. As of May 2026, Waymo operates paid commercial
service in Phoenix, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Austin, Atlanta, and Miami,
with announced expansion into cities including Dallas, Houston, San Antonio,
Orlando, Nashville, Detroit, Las Vegas, Washington DC, and San Diego
expected throughout 2026. London and Tokyo are in active testing phases. The
scale is staggering: Waymo now completes more than 500,000 paid rides every
week. Waymo is not the only player in the industry, but it is the farthest
along in providing commercial rides and has worked closely with the National
Federation of the Blind, hence this article's focus on its service.

To understand where we are, it helps to know the industry's framework. The
Levels of Autonomy-the scorecard for how much a vehicle can operate without
human input-range from zero to five. Level zero is full human control-what
most of us grew up with. Levels one and two include common driver-assistance
features; helpful, but the driver is still fully responsible. Level three
lets the car handle basic traffic conditions but still requires a human
backup. Waymo operates at Level four: no human needed at the wheel, though
currently within defined service areas. Current Waymo vehicles still have a
steering wheel, mostly to satisfy existing federal regulations rather than
any technical necessity. Level five is the ultimate destination: a vehicle
that can operate in any weather, on any road, at any time, with no human
required. We are not there yet, but the progress at Level four is already
changing our lives. And when Level five does arrive, you can be sure the
Federation will have its foot on the gas!

No More Riding Shotgun: The Policy Fight for Our Driver's Seat

The legal landscape for Level four and five vehicles is at a major
inflection point, as lawmakers are finally starting to recognize the
potential of this game-changing technology. The Autonomous Vehicle
Accessibility Act (H.R. 4419), a bipartisan bill reintroduced by Congressmen
Greg Stanton (D-AZ) and Brian Mast (R-FL) in the 119th Congress, is a high
priority for the Federation. President Riccobono has been vocal in his
support, from testifying before Congress to engaging our members in
call-to-action campaigns. The bill is simple but revolutionary: it prevents
states from requiring a passenger to hold a driver's license to use a Level
four or five autonomous vehicle. For us, this is not a small technical
detail-it is a civil rights protection. Our national leadership, along with
the team at Waymo, honored Congressman Stanton at Saavi Services for the
Blind in Phoenix for his leadership on this legislation. As the Legislative
Director for the NFB of Arizona, I can tell you this bill represents a vital
step toward making sure the driverless future does not leave our community
in the backseat. We will literally be able to sit in the driver's seat. I
highly encourage everyone reading this to contact your member of Congress
and urge their support. Before we know it, Level five will be here, and we
do not want to be in the slow lane!

The Data Passes the Road Test

Some reading this will ask: why trust your life to a robot? One need look no
further than the hard data. As of the publish date of this article, across
more than 170 million fully autonomous miles driven in complex urban
environments, the numbers show that Waymo is significantly outperforming
human drivers. Compared to human-driven vehicles in the same operating
areas, Waymo has recorded a ninety-two percent reduction in serious or fatal
injury crashes, an eighty-two percent drop in injury-causing crashes
overall, a ninety-two percent decrease in pedestrian injury crashes, and a
ninety-six percent reduction in dangerous intersection collisions.

For a community that has long faced the risks of distracted drivers,
impaired drivers, and quiet vehicles that seem to come out of nowhere, these
statistics prove that the driverless future is not just about
independence-it is fundamentally about a safer way to travel.

Buckle Up: A Briefing Before the First Ride

Before your initial Waymo trip, you must set up a profile in the Waymo app.
If you are in Austin, where our 2026 NFB National Convention is being held,
the regular Uber app gives you access to Waymo vehicles. Most features carry
over, though some accessibility options may be limited in the Uber version.
(Important: To be matched with a nearby Waymo vehicle, you must enable
autonomous vehicle rides in the Uber app.) For this article, we will be
riding with the full Waymo app.

The Waymo app works similarly to other ride-share apps. You sign up, add
payment, and request rides just like you would with Uber or Lyft. You must
confirm that your destination is within the service area. Temperature
controls, trip tracking, and even leg room adjustments are available right
in the app. As you will soon discover, playing music and adjusting your
pickup/drop-off are definitely areas that need improvement. I will not go
through every detail of the app layout, since updates happen frequently and
things change.

The vehicles themselves make it pretty obvious you are hopping into a
robotaxi. Waymo's standard fleet is a modified Jaguar I-PACE-a sleek,
all-electric SUV equipped with sensors and cameras that make it look like
something out of the movie Back to the Future. Inside, it looks like a
standard vehicle: driver's seat with a steering wheel, front passenger seat,
and three seats in the back. The trunk is spacious-large enough for me to
fit a folding wagon and a backpack-and can be opened and closed directly
from the app. When you approach, Bluetooth can automatically unlock the
doors, or you can tap the unlock button. The handles pop out of the doors.
Waymo is also rolling out its next-generation vehicle, the Waymo Ojai, an
electric van built in partnership with Chinese automaker Zeekr. (I was
recently invited by Waymo to ride in these.) With a lower step-in height,
higher ceiling, basic Braille labeling of door buttons, and sliding doors,
the Ojai is purpose-built for ride-hailing and is beginning to appear
alongside the I-PACE fleet as Waymo expands into new markets.

One of the most common questions I get is about accessibility features. To
Waymo's credit-and with meaningful input from the Federation-there are a
solid number of helpful features to take advantage of. When your ride is
confirmed, you can use the "Find My Pickup" feature. Holding your phone in
front of your body, the app announces the direction of the vehicle and how
many feet away it is. As you walk toward the car, your screen reader
continuously updates your position. Once the car arrives, you can use the
same feature to locate it. You can also have the car play a melody or honk
its horn if you are in a noisy or crowded environment. Personally, I find
the horn feature a little more reliable, though the melody is certainly
cool. Live agent support is available through the app at any time before,
during, or just after your trip.

There are two settings you absolutely want to enable before you ride: audio
announcements, which call out street names at each turn and provide
real-time updates like "Waiting for intersection to clear," and the feature
that limits how far you need to walk to your pickup or drop-off. This second
feature has been helpful but occasionally incorrect; I have had to walk
close to a quarter mile in busy areas at times.

This is where I want to make something very clear: competent nonvisual
travel skills are not optional. They are what complete the trip. Because the
Waymo is not controlled by a person, it parks where its system determines is
appropriate. I have been dropped in alleys, near dumpsters, and across a
busy street from destinations. Because I have confidence in my nonvisual
travel skills, I have always found my way. Your cane, your confidence, and
your travel training matter-every single ride.

Mile Zero: A Monday Morning Commute with "Wanda"

All of that history-the Daytona speedway, the legislative battles, the
safety data-leads to a single Monday morning in Phoenix. Let me show you
what it actually feels like.

Good morning, fellow Federation family member! I am glad you could join me
as I take my Waymo to work at Saavi Services for the Blind's Phoenix center.
It is one of those Mondays where you can barely remember what happened to
the weekend. We are heading southwest from Northeast Phoenix to Central
Phoenix, just outside of Downtown, about fourteen miles total.

It is 7:00 a.m. My daughter Liberti just got picked up for school by her
bus. Let's order the Waymo. I tap the "Work" destination already saved in my
phone, confirm my pickup address, and pay with Apple Pay. The app shows the
car is five minutes away. We head outside and stand in the driveway.

Holding my phone outward, I tap "Find My Pickup." It says the spot is forty
feet ahead. For some reason, today's pickup is not directly in front of my
house but across the street at the neighbor's. We cross and wait at the spot
where my phone buzzes with a steady vibration-letting me know I have arrived
at the right place.

It is a beautiful Arizona morning. One of those mornings that makes you
smile even when you have a million things on your mind. A notification chirp
tells me the Waymo is arriving. The app shows the car is one hundred feet
away. We listen and hear the soft hum of an electric motor approaching from
the east-not loud, something like a medium-sized industrial fan running at a
gentle setting. The car pulls up directly in front of us. It is almost like
it knew exactly where we were standing, you think.

Because I have Bluetooth enabled, we hear the click of the door handles
popping out. "Go ahead and sit in the front," I tell you, since you are the
guest on this trip. I take the seat behind the driver's side so you have the
full front passenger experience. You find the handle and pull. Immediately
the car speaks: "Good morning, Jordan." My wife Ashleigh calls the Waymo
voice Wanda.

The vibe hits you right away. Front passenger seat. No driver. Just a
steering wheel. You cannot help but reach over toward it-the seat where the
belt is buckled with no one in it. You feel the leather seats, the sleek
interior, the cup holders, the tactile details outlining the buttons. You
find the side controls and adjust your seat independently. You find your
seatbelt and click it in.

Just then I get in and close the back door. Once both doors are closed, we
hear the gentle hold-like music through the speakers, a futuristic version
of what you might hear waiting on a phone call. "To begin your ride, press
the start button," Wanda says. I ask if you are ready. You take a few deep
breaths. "Are you sure about this?" I remind you I do this all the time.
Just relax and enjoy the trip.

My screen reader announces: "Start ride button." I tap it. "Double tap to
start ride." The moment I double tap, the hold music stops, a small chime
plays, and the doors lock, all in one seamless motion. It all happened that
fast. You take one last breath.

We move. A smooth, clean takeoff. The engine grows quieter and that familiar
low hum of an electric car takes over. The car goes straight for about ten
seconds, shifts slightly left, makes a quick right turn, then stops. We are
at the entrance to my neighborhood. "Waiting for intersection to clear,"
Wanda says. The high school across the street starts at 7:30, and morning
traffic is thick. I ask if you are okay. You do not answer. You are sitting
in stunned silence.

After about a minute, the car eases forward and makes a firm left turn.
"Proceeding on North 40th Street," Wanda says. We drive for another minute,
slow slightly, and about thirty seconds later the car turns right.
"Proceeding on East Bell Road." We are cruising now. Smooth. Quiet. Just the
ambient world around us-music drifting from a nearby car, the whoosh of a
bus braking.

Just as you are settling in, the car drifts left. It stops. "Waiting for
intersection to clear." Then it turns left. "Entering Freeway," Wanda says.

"I did not know we were taking the freeway!" you say, a definite hint of
nervous energy in your voice.

"Live the life we want, right?" I say. "If most Phoenicians take the freeway
to work, why shouldn't we?"

The car stops, inches forward, stops again, dancing with the traffic. Then
the engine surges. It feels like the moment before a plane lifts off the
runway. About ten seconds later Wanda says, "Proceeding on Arizona 51
South."

Because you are still in awe, you put your window down. As we glide down the
freeway, you hear the signature sounds: the whoosh of passing cars, the deep
engine rumble of an eighteen-wheeler. You smell exhaust, feel wind against
your face. The Arizona morning sun warms your left side. You feel that warm
sun mixed with the chill of the wind and you start to relax. So far, so
good, you think.

"I wonder what the traffic report looks like," I say loud enough for you to
hear over the noise. "Why don't we turn on the radio and find out?"

The wind is getting to you now, so you roll up the window. The world goes
quiet. I open Google Assistant and say: "Play the station KTAR 92.3 FM on
TuneIn on Waymo." About ten seconds later, a jingle plays and a deep voice
announces: "Arizona's Morning News." I swipe back to the Waymo app and
adjust the volume, each swipe producing a small pop from the speakers.

After a few news stories we probably should not bring up in this article,
the traffic report hits. "A minor fender-bender on the 51 South has closed
two left lanes from Glendale Avenue to McDowell Road." You ask if that is on
our route. "Yes," I say. "Well, it wouldn't be rush hour without traffic,
right?" you say. "Now Wanda is really going to be put to the test."

I put on some instrumental music to lighten the mood. Quietly, I am hoping
we will not be late-I hate being late-but a small smile crosses my face.
Here I am, a blind man on a Phoenix freeway on a Monday morning, trying to
beat traffic and get to work on time. As American as apple pie and strip
malls.

And then, as if on cue, the traffic hits. "Squeak." "Beep." The sounds close
in around us. The car plays its own game of red light, green light. We feel
the constant stopping and going. Five minutes pass. Then, suddenly: a jerk
right, a stop, another jerk, and we are moving freely again.

"Wow!" you say. "I think we just navigated around the traffic to find the
open lane!"

You settle back, shoulders dropping. But just as you get comfortable again,
Wanda speaks. "Exiting freeway within one mile."

Your energy shifts. I can feel it.

A minute later, we slow, stop briefly for a passing car, then ease right
into the exit ramp. The car's momentum shifts as we follow the curve-smooth,
deliberate, like a gentle roller coaster. We complete the half-circle and
stop abruptly.

"Waiting for intersection to clear," Wanda says. I will not tell you this,
but I am getting a little nervous. We are cutting close to when I want to be
at the center.

We wait. And wait some more. I skip the track. The thumping bass is not
matching the vibe right now. Simple piano notes arrive like a cold glass of
water on a hot Arizona day. Refreshing. "What a busy street!" you say.

After another minute and a half, the car moves again. "Proceeding on East
Indian School Road." Finally!

Surprisingly, Indian School is clear for this time of morning. For the first
time in the trip, you are genuinely relaxed. You put your window down again.
The breeze at surface-street speed is manageable. The piano matches the
mood: calm, present, unhurried. You rest your arm on the window ledge. You
hear the sounds of the city-traffic, a bus pulling up to its stop, the chirp
of a pedestrian signal.

Moments like this are why we are proud to be Federationists. We refused to
let the inability to drive determine where we could go. We wanted to reach
places some said we never could. A car with only blind people inside, no
driver, moving through the city completely on our own terms. We are going!

"Can I try something?" you ask. "Remember, we cannot touch the steering
wheel," I say with a smile. "No, no," you say. "Let me see your phone for a
second." I hand it over, honestly not sure what you are about to do. Throw
it out the window? Go through my messages? Make a random call?

About thirty seconds later, it happens. It hits us like the final words of a
Presidential Report at a national convention. "Live the life you want.
Nobody can stop you. Reach for the sun and break on through."

It's that song that has defined our movement since it debuted at the NFB's
75th Anniversary Convention in 2015. James Brown and the Cane Tips, coming
through Wanda's speakers! I put my window down, too. We both sing at the top
of our lungs: "So you're blind, you'll be fine. We got good news!!!"

The song blasts as we sit at a red light, and every single doubt, every
moment of believing I would never be able to live life like everyone else,
every low expectation I ever let take root-it all goes right out that open
window. The philosophy we carry in this movement-that blindness is a
characteristic, not a defining quality-has never felt more real than right
now.

"It is a good thing we can't see the faces people are making as we sing out
the window," you say. "Who cares?" I reply. We both laugh.

As the car moves forward it turns left. "Proceeding on North 7th Street,"
Wanda says. We turn the music down and just sit together in the moment. We
proceed south for about a minute, both of us smiling, until a chime plays.
"Almost there," Wanda says. "Don't forget your phone, keys, or wallet. Your
future self will thank you."

As the car slows for the right turn onto Verde Lane, the significance of
this whole trip fills me like the cup of coffee sitting in the cup holder.
"Finding a spot to pull over." We feel the car ease slightly right, pause,
ease a little more. The hold music returns.

"We have arrived at your destination," Wanda says. "Pull on the door handle
to exit the vehicle."

Reluctantly, you gather your things. You pull the handle, grab your cane,
and step out with an energy that says you want someone to notice a blind
person exiting a car with no driver. You close the door. "Bye, Wanda," you
say.

I come around to meet you on the sidewalk. We just stand there together,
breathing in the city air, taking everything in. Then the car makes a small
sound, the door handles click back into place, the wheels shift, and we hear
the quiet crunch of the road beneath them. Just like that, Wanda drives off.

We cross the small street toward the center. "We made it with time to
spare!" I say. You are quiet. In your head, the voices of our movement are
echoing. This journey brought us here, and this journey is a map for
everything that comes next.

We walk inside. The Monday morning buzz is all around us. "Thank you," you
say "No-thank you," I say. "You are a Federationist, just like me. This is
what we do."

"What's next?" you ask.

"I am looking forward to taking that autonomous flight with you," I say.

Speed Bumps: What Waymo Still Needs to Fix

As I park the metaphorical vehicle that is this article, I want to be
honest: even as we celebrate how far this technology has come, we must not
settle for anything that does not fully meet our needs. The inability to
independently adjust your pickup or dropoff location on the map as a blind
user is frustrating. The in-car touchscreen is not accessible without
sighted assistance. And the process for playing music-requiring Google
Assistant workarounds that sometimes work instead of seamless screen reader
integration-is, frankly, maddening. These are not minor inconveniences. They
are design gaps that a community as engaged and vocal as ours should not
have to accept as permanent features.

To Waymo's credit, they are listening. The Federation's relationship with
Waymo is not just ceremonial-Waymo has been a Grand Canyon-level sponsor of
NFB Arizona conventions, a Washington Seminar sponsor for two consecutive
years, and a sponsor of our Congressional Reception at Washington Seminar in
2024. That relationship means we have a real place in the driver's seat, not
just a ride in the backseat. We intend to use that seat.

More intuitive voice control, fully accessible in-car interfaces, AI-powered
conversational features-these are not wishes. They are expectations. And
with the Federation's dedication and Waymo's willingness to engage, we will
keep pushing until they are reality.

Full Speed Ahead: We Are Not Going Back

Now we have choices. We do not have to worry about being turned away because
of our service animals. We do not have to make small talk with a driver who
keeps asking about our blindness. We do not have to apologize for our busy
kids. I am reminded of something we have said many times in the Federation:
"We know who we are, and we will never go back!"

If you had asked me as a child whether a blind person could ever drive, I
would have laughed at you. That pot of gold called the Federation philosophy
has led me to a place I can never leave-a place of acceptance, a place where
I no longer have to wonder whether life as a blind person can be a full
life. It drives my work as Director of Strategic Initiatives at Saavi
Services for the Blind. It is the force behind my doing something my O&M
teacher said could never be done: teaching cane travel as a blind person.
That boy who felt like he was always missing out is now a man who cannot
wait to drive his friends and family around Phoenix whenever they visit.

This philosophy is what my wife Ashleigh-lead coordinator for NFB STEM2U-and
I impart to our blind daughter Liberti, our son Lemial, and the third child
we are expecting later this year. Through the NFB, they will grow up knowing
that blindness is not an excuse to stop reaching for your dreams. The low
expectations of blindness will not be held by them. We are already planning
those cross-country road trips in our Level five.

That pot of gold does not have to seem too good to be true. The sense of
missing out, the feeling that we cannot live like everyone else, will still
arise. But what would have happened if we had let those low expectations
define us? We would not have had the Blind Driver Challenge. We would not be
seated at the table where the future of transportation is being shaped. The
refusal to remain in the backseat is what drives our movement forward. We
are not afraid to let our voices be heard. We are not afraid to show the
world what blind people can do.

I am reminded of the words President Riccobono shared in his 2016 banquet
address: "We bond together in the National Federation of the Blind to face
the uncertainty of the future, to challenge ourselves to expand the
horizons, and to take ownership of living the lives we want. Society's fears
of blindness will not stop us. Facing our own fears will make us stronger.
And the power of our unwavering love, hope, and determination will lead us
through uncertainty to new heights. Let us break down the conditioned fears
of others. Let us challenge ourselves to conquer the fears that stand in our
way. Let us overwhelm fear with our unstoppable engine of hope."

That unstoppable engine of hope has powered this movement since 1940. It is
the gas our membership puts in the tank every single day. Our movement is
the vehicle that empowers every one of us.

When it comes to blind people and driving, we will never be backseat drivers
again! This is one invention we are steering. Let us use it as a reminder
that the road ahead is wide open, and we have every right to drive on it!

 

 

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