I love to drive.
I remember running errands for my mom and dad, and all of my older friends saying it would get old, that I would tire of driving everywhere, but I’m not bored yet.
I also remember my dad telling me I would get sick of shaving, but I still enjoy that, too. I just remember watching my dad shave: the smell, the hot water, the way my dad’s face was immediately transformed after he finished. I channel that into my shaving repertoire and take a child-like view of my hygiene, and that’s exactly how I drive…I just remember how much power that motorized vehicle gives me. I count up how many miles a full tank of gas can take me and live vicariously through my exploitation of open roads. I race, I pass, I play music way too loud. I don’t just drive, I enjoy it.
And that’s something Peggy pointed out to me: driving, for me, was a hobby. Yes I had to do it just to get to class/work, but taking pride in my car or enjoying the ride gave my life those memorable moments we always seek on a daily basis.
Every time I turn the ignition, I’m happy because I’m always in pursuit of the open road.
I want to be ahead of all the other cars. I want to be setting the flow of traffic. I want to find my own speed limit
Stay tuned to Me, Myself and Ty in the coming days as I present my special blog series* about what drives me: my love for the open road.
*It’s really just one long blog post that I decided none of you would read, so I divided it up a bit and we’ll see what happens.