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Day One Hundred and Fitty-Seven:  The Highway is Alive Tonight…

The only thing that I miss about driving is the ability to drive long, fast, and with music pounding.  Not necessarily in the dark, not necessarily for a long time, just enough to clear my thoughts.  You thin you have it hard?  You can probably leave your conscious for moments, and even if you can’t then you’l understand what it’s like to not be able to go for a mind-clearing drive when all that’s needed is an etch-e-sketch shake to wipe it clean for the night.  I miss being able to just go.

Gregor talked a lot early on last semester about the great American plain as a narrative for the great American journe, and travelling, and how things on the road were revolutionary.  I trust in this, and crave friends who can help me speed along highways and even down small city streets, it’s fascinating to be in cars, to drive, to cruise with a good song, to drive, as AJ always croons over, at night with the windows open and the warm breeze pulling through with good music and silence at the same time.  If anything I miss about driving it is that feeling of freedom.  To hop in the car and buzz off, focus on maneuveing the roads, and settle in to the comfort of concrete and melody to take you away.

I have no solution for me, as I can’t drive.

Maybe walking?  But that’s not the same.  Sitting isn’t the same.  Even driving with someone else is not the same, because there’s always that tension for conversation.  I want to just be alone with no thoughts and sing Bowie again down Lancaster like I did in eleventh grade, as loud as Space Oddity would go, and cry and sit in traffic and construction and laugh because the sun roof was open and everyone could hear that I was listening to the Queen of Glam.  I’m proud, to say the least, that I was even able to experience it at all, as some of my friends never will experience those true free sensations of being completely alone with just your thoughts and music in a vehicle.

So tonight when I crave that freedom, that liberation, that revolutionary road full of exploration and truths, I will attempt to find it elsewhere.  No meditation is similar, and nothing can even try to compare.  If I can’t do it, I’ll wish I could and take the next best thing:  Wine and the big Sandec headphones for a spin for the first time since my surgery and the stitches were out.  It’s not nearly as satisfying, but it does the job.

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