Hey! Remember yesterday when I thought we’d driven a lot? Well, I hadn’t experienced the 13 hour drive that was today… As I write this, we STILL have 2 hours before we get to our gig, where we’ll have about 10 min to get in and go! Whew… all I have to say is how unbelievably easy our son is to travel with! We sometimes forget he’s here because he’s so content. Whether he’s listening to music, watching alphabet videos, playing video games, or playing with his toys, he has not once complained about being in the car, being tired, bored, and, after day 2, he’s accepted that this is our “temporary home” and hasn’t even asked to go home. He did, however have this to say.
“I’m quite nervous to be 5, because I’m not certain how it feels on your teeth when you lose them.”
The Drive: A synopsis
There’s really so little to say about driving, getting gas, sleeping, peeing at rest stops, peeing in bottles, peeing at gas stations, eating snacks, listening to music, watching movies, listening to nothing, thinking about life, thinking about music, thinking about nothing… it was too much time to do anything. Too little time to get much done either. The busyness of monotony. It’s a strange thing, planning to tackle so many action items when you are stuck sitting still. The stillness perpetuates itself and you just feel like being even more still. Like if you could actually become part of the seat, the car, the blanket, you would perhaps achieve something, have purpose. The feeling of constant forward momentum juxtaposed with the sense of sinking into molasses. And the time…good lord it never moves. Seconds are hours, minutes are days, hours are years past and you are 10 years your own senior as you reach the next state. There is a look that people have who are vagabonds, nomads, gypsy spirits, it’s the look of time travel…
Or the walking so slow while the world screams past.
It’s the years that wrinkle your skin, when only seconds have set in.
It’s a feeling that manifests in a physical.
A reality that trades spots with the unbelievable.
It’s the never ending 99 bottles and the heavy, unbending foot on the throttle.
The stagnant, the movement, the hope for improvement…
Then, one of you laughs. Something little.
A tickle to your subconscious that shakes you out of the haze…where you floundered for days.
You’re an hour away! Man, you must be joking!
Then somebody mentions the Bandit and Smokey.
And you’re singing.
And you’re alive again.
Ready to drive again.
You’re “East Bound and Down”…