Motor Therapy

I woke up this morning to one of New England's finest days: freezing rain falling on top of black ice and old snow. Really, it doesn't get that nasty anywhere else in the world :-).

What I failed to realize was that such weather would coincide with a thick sheet of ice covering my car by midday. Nice. Actually, it wasn't bad, because it was nice to be responsible for taking care of a car again. After breaking apart the ice shell my car had developed, it was free for a drive - but I was surprised to find less comfort than I usually do while passing cars on the highway. Maybe it was because they were unfamiliar roads to drive - I actually had to pay attention to my driving, instead of letting my hands and feet automatically attack the roads I've driven so often - letting my mind wander elsewhere.

What is it about familiar roads that's therapeutic? I can think of one of my favorite routes right now: the long backroads through old forests and perfectly manicured houses - some houses new, and some older than the trees. I know where to brake and where to accellerate by memory; I know just how much to pull the wheel with my fingertips to navigate the tough spots, where the road dips into a ditch before violently swerving to the right. There's always the risk of there being another car in precisely the wrong spot at the wrong time, but the threat is never fulfilled.

I guess to most people my driving seems reckless - I'm not surprised, especially after describing how I prefer to drive with a wandering mind. But that's the only way I've ever been able to really drive - finding the edge between being careful and being reckless - and I've probably pushed across that lines a few times too many to maintain a good reputation. The scary part is that my parents still think I drive more responsibly than my sister, and they're still right. But it's got to be something genetic - she and I have led surprisingly similar lives, so it only makes sense that our similarities would extend right into our driving styles. We both like to go fast because it means that you only slow down for things that really matter. We both need the same music - either something that has absolutely nothing to do with life at the present moment or something that has everything to do with life at the present moment.

Driving alone is best when you have something on your mind that you have no way to get rid of - not that you necessarily want to get rid of what's on your mind, but the act of leaving bits and pieces of it scattered on familiar roads somehow puts life back into something that mildy resembles sanity. And then there are the drives where theres nothing at all on your mind, when you're just driving to be suspended for a moments, a minute, an hour. It's escape to nowhere in particular - escape to the grocery store to get a loaf of bread for dinner. Actually, I've made the trip to the grocery store more often for no reason than for a good one, I'm pretty sure. I even got called out on it once by my boss, since I pass work on the way to the store and can be rather noticeable if I'm driving a bright orange car.

All I need now is the drive home - long highways, one after another, leading to an actual destination. I don't know what sense I'll find on those roads. Maybe I'll even find some insanity, which is worth just as much as sanity, believe me.

I also need to get a different punctuation mark - I'm noticing a significant and unneccessary increase in my use of the dash...