Sometimes there’s nothing as soothing as driving 55 mph on an infrequently traveled road. The windows are cracked open, and the night air creeps in and settles into your bones. The high beams illuminate the off-beaten path. Every bump is felt first in your steady hands and then ricochets into your arms and legs, before making its way into your gut. The tall trees you wander past hang over the road like weary souls and reach out with their branches as if to pluck you from your seat. Out there on the road, with no cars behind you and none in front, thoughts can flow freely and peace can be had. Whether it's a hot July sunset you're cruising towards or a sleepy December night you meander through like a dream, pressing down on the accelerator and clutching the wheel is a form of control that is amplified louder in your memory than the rumblings from the hot engine under the hood.
If it seems as if I am glorifying, or even romanticizing, driving, I am. Out of all the little things I miss about home since coming to college, the one that I find myself itching for the most is driving. Not necessarily driving through traffic or driving on busy streets, but I miss driving down various roads on the outskirts of town in my Jeep Wrangler and having this overwhelming sense of contentment while doing so. I always had this keen sense of direction that told me I was not lost and pushed me to explore further. My Jeep was, and always will be, a safe haven for me, one where I felt comfortable no matter where I was.
When I was at home, I found every reason imaginable to go for a drive, or better yet, I went driving when there was no reason for me to do so. When there is no destination, there is nothing holding you back except yourself. The drives with a Point A but no Point B, are the ones that awaken yourself to your own senses and choices. Whether to turn right or veer to the left, to stay straight or turn around, is all decided on impulse. And I found that the more drives I went on, the more willing I was to go just a little bit further, and the more curious I was to seek out places I had yet to see.
There are times of stress that make the muscles in the back of your neck tense, your thoughts negative and your stomach upset. I've known these times myself. Everybody knows these times. And there are countless ways to push through; many people deal with the same situation differently. As for me, I dealt with it simply by buckling in my seatbelt, turning the ignition, listening to the engine rumble, and just driving.
Sometimes I dream. I see the pine trees zip past through a window, and the moonlight burns a white reflection into the lake beyond the trees. I turn my head and see the road rush underneath me. At this point, I can feel the steering wheel in my tight grip, and I can hear the faintest sound of some song playing through the speakers. There is a large fork in the road in the distance, and I'm eager to get there and decide which way I'll go. Then I wake up, and it's dark. My hands are clutching a pillow, and twilight is seeping its way into my room through the tiny cracks in the blinds. I lie awake; I lie half-asleep, waiting for the rumble of the engine to draw me back into the dream.
