drive my car
Driving J to the airport this evening, a car pulled into a lane I was about to change into, eliciting a few minor epithets. J laughed at me and said, “you’re cute.” Which really irritated me.
See, J has never seen me drive. I mean he’s never seen me *drive*. He’s seen me sedately tootle along in other people’s cars. But he’s never seen me drive the way I drive for enjoyment.
to some people, swimming is second nature. for me, it’s driving. i love driving. i love feeling like the car is an extension of myself, and that ability to control something innately. i love that hyperawareness that comes with driving on the narrow edge between excitement and danger. I love deftly navigating the parked-up narrow streets of south boston and fighting my way into a too-small parking space. i love whipsawing the winding hilly back roads of the cape. i love opening up on an empty highway in vermont. i love taking corners too sharp and driving much faster than a good girl should.
i love a good song thumping through my solar plexus as my foot presses pedal to metal, windows open, road unfurling in front of me and the smooth vibration of a well-tuned engine under my ass.
it’s freedom and skill and thrill and escapism all rolled into one. i love to drive – and i’m good at it. whatever j might think. he doesn’t know how i *drive*.
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Comment by v
14.11.2005 @ 01:42 am
ha. *I* know how you drive.
let the swearing begin.
Ha!
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14.03.2006 @ 20:29 pm
[...] my third car was yet another relation donation. “bandit” was a smoke-coloured 1996 mitsubishi galant from my brother. he was my daily ride to and from work for the 3 years I lived in boston, and i *loved* driving him. i took him everywhere, and he really felt like another part of my family. we went to provincetown and montreal and new york and new hampshire on a regular basis. we went to the beach when it was fine and sunny, and the mountains when the weather called for a hike. my dog suzie sat in back with her seatbelt on, and we’d just drive. anywhere. everywhere. it didn’t matter. the driving was the thing. he had a sunroof which leaked, and I was forever taping up the edges, but in a secret way, i loved his quirks. he was my car during my divorce, and whenever i needed to get away, he was there. he wasn’t fancy, and he wasn’t big. he was your average mid-sized foreign economy car, but he saved my sanity in a million small ways. Having to sell him to finance my move to london was supremely difficult, and I still miss the feel of the stickshift in my hand. [...]