As the title says, there’s not a single thing in the world that’s quite like driving down a smooth road, with music seeping through the speakers, windows down, and a smile on my face. I love to smell the scents of each neighborhood pour into my car as I drive through them. I even love the smell of garbage day. It’s amazing to me that so many people can close their windows, and be lost in their bubble of a car. They can be completely unaware of their surroundings, just watching the broken white stripes.
I love how I can drive through one area and the children are all playing in the grass, rolling around, or throwing a simple baseball back and forth, just as happy as ever. Then in the next neighborhood, the children have remote-control cars, four wheelers, and cell phones to keep them occupied.
I love to watch the busy people in the business district. They have their cell phones in one hand, and their briefcase in the other. The women all wear their hair in buns, and the men barely have any hair. They all look so much alike, and they all look lifeless and bored.
I smile as I watch a mother and father taking their infant on a walk though my middle-class neighborhood, the blue bundle fast asleep in his stroller. His parents hold hands, and smile as they speak to each other. However, I also smile while witnessing the less green side of the fence (although, the well manicured lawn is much greener than any lawn in my neighborhood). I watch a woman nagging at her husband with a beer clutched in her palm while he tries to do yard work. He probably deserves it though.
The thing I love most of all while driving though, is looking at other drivers. Eight teenagers are stuffed into a small, white sedan, probably going somewhere very fun. A pair of parents are in a red sporty car with two teenage children, one boy, one girl in the back. They are all screaming along to what must be an amazing song. It brings me back to a wonderful day when Dad took Ricca and me to Sea World, one of the highlights of that day was the trip there. We screamed along to our most favorite songs that came on the radio. I see the two people in front of me making out at the red light, and I look away quickly; I’m not that much of a voyeur. I watch an elderly woman with a flustered look on her face flip a road map around to every angle, finally giving the driver, probably her daughter, a very exhausted look. She throws down the map with a pout, then notices I’m watching her.
I blush and look the other way: the child in back of a black, rusty Chevy must have made his young mother very angry. He’s crying in his car-seat and she’s waving her finger in his face while she’s flipped around from the driver’s seat. Her seat belt is not latched. I wonder what he did, and felt bad for him because I decided she was overreacting.
With all these sights to see, and all these people to watch, how could I ever tune them out? And what do people think of me when they watch me? Well, I have an idea of what they might think. I, sometimes, get lost in my music. I assume I make a spectacle of myself when I do. I sing as I bounce and wobble in my seat to the music. I have even caught a man in the passenger seat of a yellow Corvette making fun of me, mocking me! Banging is hands on the dashboard and wobbling while singing to an imaginary song! The nerve! And even when he saw me noticing him, he didn’t look away like I do. He pointed and laughed!
Maybe one day I’ll be able to admit to the other drivers that I’m watching them like he admitted to me. For now, though, I’ll look away to someone or something else.