Do you have that part of you that just wants to get lost? To get in your car, to go out for milk or cigarettes, and to never return? To pull off of the freeway and turn onto a lonely road that leads to…somewhere? Or nowhere. There’s this little piece of me that wants to drive into the desert, a beautiful, serene sunset to one side of me and an ominous, terrifying stormfront to the other. Nothing in front of me but road. And nothing behind me but dust and more road. I’m not running from anything, I just need some quiet. I just need to breathe. Alone in my thoughts. Alone in my head. Alone in my car.
Pinks and oranges and blues and yellows. The universe turns into an array of colors before me, the result of light and particles and different wavelengths. And I drive onward, windows open, wind and the remaining sun on my face, the hum of the engine and tire tread on pavement, until I’m reset. Until I’m restored. Until…
…I’m back.
Cue up “Four Hearts in a Can” from Smog’s 1996 album The Doctor Came at Dawn, and start the engine. Check the gauges, and the fluids, and the gas. Then go.
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