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Byline: Wes Smith
Oct. 1--Thelma Tharp's battered car chugs down a quiet Winter Park street with its sprung trunk lid bouncing up and down as if mouthing a warning to other vehicles and pedestrians.
Tharp acknowledges that she has had a few run-ins on the road, and her car provides ample evidence. The 1988 "Oldsmo" -- all that remains of the Cutlass Supreme's maimed nameplate -- sits like a wreck awaiting a tow in front of her apartment. Both sides are crumpled with dents. Cracks sprawl the width of the windshield. A taillight is smashed. The rear bumper dangles.
Since 1990, Tharp has been involved in at least five collisions, state records show. Her license was suspended last year after a concerned family member canceled her insurance.
But Tharp is a longtime advocate for seniors and their rights in Orlando, and she did not surrender. She went to driving school, won her license back, got new insurance and lobbied until her family returned her car keys. She maintains that she is a safe driver and was not at fault in some of her accidents. She and other elderly drivers often are treated as scapegoats by police and stereotyped by the public, she said.
"I felt I was discriminated against when my license was taken away," Tharp said. "You see, I'm 92, and the world doesn't allow for many lapses from people my age."
Tharp will have a lot of company in her determination to remain independent and mobile as millions from the baby-boom generation reach retirement age and beyond. The aging of the American driving population will present a complex set of problems for Florida and the nation as record numbers of people face losing one of the most coveted symbols of modern life -- the ability to go where they want to go, when they want to go, by driving themselves in their cars.