I love long drives. The sky stretched across the horizon ahead; a ribbon of tar spooling out behind. On a road trip, what matters is the journey. When you’re driving and you’re alone, you can’t be distracted. You have to focus on the road, and you are forced to be in the present.
So a road trip suspends time even as the car forges through it. It’s just the music, the road and me.
But all journeys must come to an end. I’m always a little sorry after I arrive at my destination. Time starts up again. I climb back into a life indented by routine and keep going, going, going, building up enough mileage in the hamster wheel to earn the right to go back.