Dad pulls into the McConnell Dorm parking lot, his slick black Ford Explorer drastically decelerating, the music blasting at max volume and the car pulsing with each beat. Some days its Pink Floyd, other days its Johnny Cash. I push open the door of the old brick building, and hasten to the car, attempting not to drop any of my 4 bags: one laundry, one school work, one for the gym and lastly, one for my PJs and toothbrush. While my luggage says otherwise, I'm only going home for one night.

My eyes light up and my lips form a tiny grin when I see my dad in the driver's seat. He is wearing a worn out army green hat, one he got at a golf tournament, who knows how many years ago. A week has passed since I last saw that army green hat, a week much too long. I throw open the back door, toss my bags into the back seat, and join dad in the front.

Only then does he turn down the music, and ask me about my week. "Same old, same old," I reply, and sensing my exhaustion he laughs and proceeds to turn up the music. He isn't offended. Dad rolls down the windows to expose the inside of the car to the cool Fall air. Fall--it's dad's favorite season. The colors of the leaves, the temperature, the kids back in school ;). It's mine too. The wind blows my red hair in every which direction, and sends goosebumps up and down my arms. If dad can withstand the cold breeze, I can too.

I always used to think we were disrupting the quiet little town of Exeter, NH--the way we rolled down our windows and listened to our music, singing 101.1 at the top of our lungs. I'm what one might call a daddy's girl, and have grown up with 80's rock my whole life. My favorites? Eagles, Hotel California, and Aerosmith, Come Together. Sometimes I wish I was born in the decade of the heavy rock and big hair styles--just to know my parents when they were my age.

Now I don't think of our drives as disrupting the people around us. We are just a fraction of this beautiful scenery. A small existence just trying to be heard. And through us, Bon Scott's lyrics ring, even after his death. Dad's eyes light up when he hears AC/DC'sShook All Night Long start to seep through the speakers. My eyes light up watching him. Home is our destination, but route 111 is the only thing we are thinking about. I could live like this forever: red and orange trees on either side of the car, a small house with acres of land with a couple horses in the distance. We just continue driving and belting out each song, as if is was the first and our lungs were not tired. And that is how dad and I live, down the back roads of Exeter, NH.