Vroom.
May 21, 13:00
I got a ride back from lunch today. As we approached a bend in the road I could feel the vehicle accelerate gently under the driver's command. It occurred to me that when one is in control of an automobile, the driver has a level of control over all the lives in the car that is otherwise quite rare. Each minute application of effort on the controls is translated directly to the bodies of the cabin's occupants, and if they are paying attention, their minds. Today I took notice, and for just a moment I felt as if I had an intimate connection with the driver.
How rare it is to be absolutely sure of what one is doing and why. He wants to go faster. The reason for doing so is no less mysterious than any other motivation but the immediate purpose is remarkably clear. Faster. Less time. More distance.
For the duration of the ride I was living at the total will of the driver. This is always the case; only today I had taken notice.
Usually the driver is me, and most of the time I am alone. My only regular company is the radio as it crackles out NPR programming. This is the upside of driving a long way to go everywhere: often I take myself toward Chicago and the radio transmitters there. This decrease in distance partially makes up for the broken-off, re-attached antenna that came standard on my used Prizm.
Inevitably I have to go home, and as the stations fade I twist off the radio and drive in silence. More accurately, I drive without the addition of any artificial sound. Mostly I think.