Drive
I drive a ridiculous car.
I mean, it’s a small car. A red car. It’s a hatchback, and it gets good gas mileage, but…. Have you ever seen a car and just thought, “that car is ME”? Like, my car is NOT that car. It was cheap, it was fuel-efficient, and it has a pretty roomy back end.
(Good lord, I need to not write things like that out loud.)
I used to have a “me” car. It was a yellow VW beetle, and I’m just gonna be honest when I tell you that this is the sort of car I should almost always drive. It’s adorable (like me), it’s fast (like me), and it’s got a particular brand of uniqueness and poetry about it - also like me.
Unfortunately, a lot of people HATE volkswagen beetles. Also, probably like me. But I don’t care. I love driving weird cars. I mean, sure, the point of a car is to get you from place A to place B, so maybe that’s just a utilitarian perspective, but I don’t just drive for driving sake. I like to GO somewhere. I like to enjoy the drive. I like to look out the window as I go, marveling at the wonders and magic that is out there in the world. Give me a sun roof. Give me a nice set of speakers so I can crank all my oldies music loud enough that I can only barely hear my own shitty voice over the music.
I want to enjoy the drive. I want to get where I’m going and be breathlessly grateful for the journey that got me there. I want to be able to look forward to getting back in my car and driving back to where I came from.
I just… I love to drive.
This I suppose is part of what has made the past 12+ months particularly harrowing. I mean, could they have envisioned a worse punishment for someone like me? Stuck in one place, legitimately terrified of leaving my house to go anywhere other people might be? I mean, let it just be a simple disease next time. Let it be a snow storm, let it be a flood or an earthquake or some other annoying but temporary affectation, but let me get in my car and drive places!
I remember driving for driving’s sake. It hasn’t been that long, has it? Just getting in the car and picking a direction and just hitting the road. Grabbing coffee and snacks at the gas station, picking a playlist, and letting random be the watchword. After all, there’s only so much planning you can really do when it comes to driving. Assuming you know where you’re going, how you get there depends as much on how much time and cash you have as it does the other people who are meanwhile driving around you. I could probably go off on a riff about “other drivers”, but god help me I don’t want to open up that rusty can of radioactive worms just now, thanks. Honestly, take a moment and be glad I keep that to myself, because I already have enough trouble projecting my angelic aura in place as it is without showing that rabidly Hulk-like side of myself.
Weirdly enough, driving is merged tightly to most of my creative habits. Know your tools, be prepared, be content with company or solitude, and then just see where the road takes you. Mobility. Freedom. Adventure. Okay, well now I need to get in my car and go somewhere. Feel free to come along - the car seats four. Five if you don’t mind squeezing up in the back.
But all the same, I wish I didn’t drive such a ridiculous car. Maybe I need to just bite the bullet and find something else to drive, but for the moment this one at least gets me where I need to go, and that’s not nothing. Either way, I just want to drive.
Alternative Text:
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been driving. Rain spattered the windshield and the wipers did their best to keep the glass clean, but it was clearly a losing battle. Lights from the opposing cars glistened in smeared halos across the glass, but he didn’t see much past the steering wheel. He didn’t even know where he was going.
It was over, wasn’t it? They’d only been together a handful of months, but… it was done, now. All that was left was the recognition. The acknowledgement. Admitting it was over.
What would be next? He couldn’t even imagine that. He didn’t even know where he was now, let alone where his car might come to a stop. Maybe he could just drive. That sounded like a great plan.
Just. Drive.
She was gone, now, so even if he figured out where he was and turned around, she wouldn’t be waiting for him there. They never even got a cat or a dog, so the apartment would be empty and silent. Just a half empty fridge and a few cans of something or other in the cupboards, and even the bag of bread was probably moldy.
A TV, some videos, and whatever was left in the stack of CDs she’d pilfered. “Pilfered.” He didn’t even know whose was whose. She probably took the Nine Inch Nails. Fuck. He really needed those albums today. Knowledge was home. Despairs was on the road.
It should rain forever. He could think about coming home then. For now, though, he was just going to drive.