An American Love Affair

I didn’t get my license until I was over 21. In fact, I had already celebrated my first wedding anniversary before I was licensed to drive.

My children are curiously part of the millennials who don’t look forward to driving at ALL. Except for the youngest, she is chomping at the bit to be licensed. I love her for it. (even though part of me goes “her brain is not developed enough! Wait for 18!”, though there will be no waiting.

Ever since my first highway driving alone, I’ve loved it. Today, I had to drop Denise off to pick up her car. We technically have two cars, but only ever really drive her car–except now I am driving the car Santa gave to Ava that Ava has NEVER driven after she got her license.  I only get to do that for short errands. We live a city life. There is no highway driving in our lives really.

On the way home though, she got out of the car. I sat behind the wheel of the nice blue Dodge (aka Fun House Car) with a REAL engine and great seats. (yeah yeah the Prius makes more sense but whatever) It even has a nice sound system. Thunder Road started to play as I pulled on to the access road. 40 miles per hour and clear road. That is blasting fast roadway around here. I rolled down the window just a bit. Bruce Springsteen told me to let the wind blow back my hair. I accelerated and lost myself back into the strange meditation that is driving a strong car all by myself. The only particular place to go was home. I took the long way and enjoyed every minute. (even as the strange DJ said Pearl Jam was like as old as Buddy Holly)

Denise beat me home. She thought I had gotten lost or was dead in a ditch or something. I wasn’t. I was just being a girl who loves the road, who loves a car that loves the road.

No, the Dodge isn’t environmentally friendly. (though it does pass emissions tests with flying colors) It isn’t beautiful. It does have quirks and is old. But, it thrums with power, life, and music.

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