Traffic ruins the driving experience. To maximize the pleasure, you need empty roads, endless terrain and lots of time between tinkering with controls.
Rural, western highways are the perfect elixir.
The car itself is already its own self-contained bubble. The perfect climate. Music. Comfort.
Long drives allow long introspection. And the capture of quotes that pop fresh-born across the marquee of your mind.
“This planet stands in the way of my brilliance.”
“I obeyed too many rules and championed them!”
“Clarity is confidence without the doubt.”
Or focus outside the vehicle and discover details that most miss.
* When oncoming traffic is bunched, there’s likely an accident or road work ahead.
* Three dead raccoons within a mile reveals the local farms are swarming with them.
* A dead deer means someone made an unscheduled trip to the body shop.
* A newspaper tube is evidence someone travels this path every morning before dawn.
I pass a torn cardboard box, half the gift wrap missing, cartwheeled askew in the ditch. What happened here?
Was the box set on the roof and forgotten before departure?
Did a delivery man go rogue, ransacking packages as he sped down the road?
Was it proof of a romantic moment gone horribly wrong?
With miles to go, cruise set at 75, rolling down an open road, there’s plenty of time to explore every tangent.
When pondering what drives random men, there are many mysteries.
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