I…miss driving. Recently I’ve been in several cars, often driving roads that I know. I’m passing towns where my friends live, and I’m seeing back roads that go by beautiful spaces, and I really miss driving.
I’ve had some conversations recently about how driving represents freedom to Americans in a way that it doesn’t always in other cultures; how driving a car is so important to American mythology.
I’ve driven across the deserts, I’ve driven through the plains in winter. I’ve crossed mountains and lakes.
I try to be skeptical of that kind of American Dream-type mythology when I recognize it in my life, but… this is part of it that I have honestly bought into.
When I’m driving…I can go anywhere.
I can pick up the people on the side of the road. I can do anything I want to. I have stability, but more than that, it *is* freedom.
If I need to cross the country for work, I can.
If I want to cross the country to see someone I love, I can.
If I want to leave at 2:44 A.M., I can, because I am not dependent on anything.
Just a full tank of gas and a road ahead.