Pedal to the Metal

All I wanted to do today was drive. Really fast. Listening to really loud music.

I think it must be a genetic thing as some of my earliest memories are of my mom putting me in the car and us just driving. Sometimes for as short as minutes and sometimes for hours. Up into the mountains, around town, around the neighborhood.

When I got my driver’s license, it was a practice that I picked up almost immediately. The need to drive and drive and drive. To move through the night with my speakers blaring Jane’s Addiction, Ani DiFranco, Depeche Mode, The Cure, and so many others. It seemed the only time that the world was going faster than I was. It was the only time that I could get my heart and mind to slow down.

I remember many nights growing up where I’d be home by my required curfew and then sneak back out just to go driving. Usually on the highway so that I could push the car in rhythm with the music instead of my pace being dictated by stop lights.

I think those have been the two biggest casualties of having kids. I hardly ever just drive anymore and I certainly almost never get to listen to loud music. When I was a kid and my mom and I would go on our long drives, I was always quiet, just content to watch the scenery go by. My children, on the other hand, are much chattier than I’ve ever been, so it makes it hard to do with them, unless they are asleep and then I’m hard pressed to get off at the exit I’m aiming for instead of just continuing on to the nearest border.

I love to drive. I love that I can move fluidly from lane to lane based on my own momentary cadence. I love that I can sing at the top of my lungs without fear or holding back. I love that I can explore based on whim instead of to do list. I love how the world looks as it flies past at any speed. I love the freedom. I just really love to drive.