To Drive...

Well now I'm no hero, that's understood
All the redemption I can offer girl is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey, what else can we do now
Except roll down the windows and let the wind blow back your hair
Well the night's busting open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting on down the tracks...
-Bruce Springsteen
Thunder Road

I miss my car. After months without my late night drives and long routes home that take me through the mountains or across the open fields, I'm feeling soo....I don't know...mortal.

When I turned sixteen, I spent about three weeks straight in a state of rapture and elation. I could drive. I Could Drive!!!! It wasn't just the freedom that excited me--it was the mere act of driving. I loved it. Wind rushing through the windows, one hand on the wheel, the radio playing, a smooth merge onto an open highway, a reving acceleration to pass on the left, swinging and dipping around and through traffic like one of Jane Austin's ballroom dances...

And yet at the time, there were those naysayers, those hardened, calloused, middle-aged hens who thought it best to inform me that my joie de vie would not forever be tied to driving, that someday I would spurn the very thought of one more trip to make, one more errand to run, one more slow drive through traffic in the car. Once "real life" hit, they claimed, I would not so adore my ability to drive.

What do you call people who rain on a sixteen-year-old's parade? Losers.

Because real life did hit...to some extent....and my love of driving only intensified. So There! (says 16 yr old Lucy with a stomp of her foot). Despite the stress of trying to get two boys from one side of Nashville to the other in time for soccer practice while also picking up the family's drycleaning and dropping off film to be developed in the midst of rush hour traffic (when I was a nanny), despite being late to work countless times after underestimating the traffic backup on I65, despite tickets for inane infractions, despite fender benders, despite rising gas prices, despite the ever-present fear that comes with driving a car made in the 80s--driving still remained one of my highest loves. So there! indeed.

It's just an indescribable feeling--those moments when the sun, moon, stars and planets all line up perfectly to give you green lights and open lanes. It's like flying. Or kissing. Honestly--if given the choice between wings or wheels--between a great, long kiss or a great long stretch of road--I'd have to think about it.

And it's been over 8 months since I felt that joy. Don't get me wrong--I really adore public transportation and wish that more cities in the States had the system set up for it--but geez, I miss driving. I miss it more than I miss sandwiches and steak. More than I miss movie theaters. More than I miss baked goods.

And it's not just driving that I miss--but it's music too. The car is where I absorb new music. It's where I pick up the lyrics and internalize the meanings of songs. Tim has been so sweet to send me mixed cds while I've been over here--but I'm afraid I haven't played them much--because no one really wants to sit around alone in their bedroom doing nothing but listening to a cd. You want to do it on a drive! I made the mistake of downloading an old Keane album the other day--I was halfway through the first song when I knew that I could only truly enjoy the songs in a car. And not just in a car--but behind the wheel.

And after these 8 months of forced subjugation in the passenger's side of a taxi or the seat of a bus, I'm afraid that I'm becoming one of those women who never lets the man (or anyone) drive--who must always be behind the wheel. While there's probably nothing wrong with that--it conflicts with my Southern sense of femininity. :)

Sigh...I just miss my car. I really do. Only 2 months left though...