That probably stems from growing up in New York City, where the only real reason to have a car was either so you could be a wheel man on a heist, or to make an insurance claim after it was stolen.
I took the subway, the bus, or a taxi when my destination was too far for walking.
Today was a typical Monday. I don’t even want to talk about it, but I’m sure you know the drill. Ugh. Enough said.
My drive home from work is only about 10 minutes (yes, be jealous of my commute!), but I’m always very tense behind the wheel, so it’s never a relaxing journey.
Tonight, however, something was different. I was lost in my own little world, my mind drifting off to the texts I’d exchanged with The Girl Who Was On The Treadmill during my lunch break, and thinking about how long it’s been seen I’d seen her.
I get on the highway where it begins, about a quarter of a mile from my office, so usually, there is a mad rush of traffic as everyone else is in a hurry to get home.
Or sometimes, more like extremely rarely, there’s no one else there when I turn onto the highway. That was what happened tonight. I hit the highway, moved over to the passing lane, and just floored it.
I came upon one or two cars, but zipped right on past them and had the highway all to myself again. Just flying…
Like I said, I was lost in my thoughts through most of this. I was aware enough to keep the car in my lane, but it’s pretty much a straight stretch of road, so no master maneuvering was required.
I thought about The Girl Who’s Far Away, and how cool she would’ve thought it was that Mr. Scaredy Cat Driver was going 70mph on the drive home, since she’s never actually seen me operate a vehicle on the highway.
I thought about how I used to love to sing to her in the car, how she’d get all comfy in the giant front seat and put her feet up on the dashboard, and how I’d taught myself to drive with just my left hand so I could always hold her hand on our trips.
When I snapped out of my little daydream as I approached my exit, I noticed that I was singing at the top of my lungs, driving with just my left hand, and I had my right hand out on the seat next to me, as if waiting for her to interlock fingers with me.
I guess some behaviors just become a part of our DNA…
I had no idea that driving on the open road while my mind took a little romantic detour down Memory Lane could be so refreshing. Not a bad way to put Monday in my rear view mirror…