The act of going from place to place can be different in many cultures. The process though is the same. We leave one place, by some means of transportation, and arrive at another. Most of the time, in my youth, my family would take long car trips to visit family for the holidays or during the summer. I always loved going on car trips though for some reason. Maybe it was because of the landscape that would fly by that I could pretend to know something about, or maybe it was the continuous noise and bumpiness from the road that slowly made me drowsy. Whatever it was, I always enjoyed the process of going on a road trip.
As I have gotten older, I have had to drive on these trips and have found them to be more tiring than joyful. As the driver of the car on the road trip, you are responsible for all the lives at stake in the car. The same noises and movements from the road and the car somehow make me tired still, though. My eye lids feel like 2 tons, because my body is entranced by the rhythm of the road, but my mind knows the danger of falling asleep. I find myself completely missing huge chunks of time. I know that I was awake and that I didn’t crash the car, but I somehow forgot how I drove for the past two or three minutes. Because of these pressures, I rarely take in the landscape around me, and I most of the time despise the process.
I hope that I can go back to appreciating road trips in the future, though. Not because I love to drive, or because I love sitting in the same position staring at the same thing for hours. I want to try and remind myself of the beauty of the unknown outside of the car, and the perfectly known inside it. Car trips are the perfect mix of pure exploration, and late night pillow talk. I get to sit for hours on end with (hopefully) people that I enjoy being with, while I discover new lands and new sights. Instead of dreading the monotonous drive, I hope I can relish the adventurous party in a car.