A Drive Home

Having dropped off my friend at her home, I started up back towards my own. Many things, we had discussed on the hour long ride home. One thing was about the speed at which I drive. She had more than once commented that I was driving awfully slowly or that I was way below the speed limit. I replied that I preferred driving slowly, and that I only drove quickly when I had passengers; peer pressure puts my foot on the gas. She replied that the drivers behind her tailgating were the source of her pressure, or rather a reason for her consideration to drive above the speed limit.

One thing I like about my new car is the display lighting. It is a mixture of lots of blue with a bit of red here and there. It does not try to be cool and comforting, but is rather bold. There is a dial on the left side of the dash that controls the brightness of the entire display. I played with it when first exploring the car, and decided to leave it on lowest, despite knowing that I enjoyed the display most when it was extremely bright. I figured at the time that if I ever felt the need, I would just crank it up.

After turning out of my friend's development, I looked at my dash and wondered why it was so dim. I reached over with my left and and pulled hard on the dial. The dial was already up. I realized that I had already at some point felt the need. Why then, was the display so dim? I pushed the dial down to the dimmest setting. Seeing the new, faint light, all I could remember was the memory of how bright the light had been only minutes ago. I cranked the light back up and left it that way.

Looking at the display again, I noticed that I was moving at about 30 miles per hour. I knew the road that I was on to have a speed limit of 35 miles per hour; it was about to increase to 45 miles per hour. I looked in my rear view mirror. I drove on at 30 miles per hour.

All the while, Gershwin was playing a soft tune, calling for my late night cruise to continue on. If you've never heard it, his piano concerto is a grand yet accessible melody that is neither joyous nor melancholy; instead, it leaves me with nostalgia. To have a want, yet also have a need. I don't remember if the piece ends with a bang, or if it rides silently out into the night, but neither do I know the path of my journey, though it has already been written.

It was already 12:17. At 11:17, my mother had called me and asked where I was. I replied that I was on my way home that she should expect me around 12 midnight, because I had just left and was on my way back on an hour long drive. And yet, I was in no rush to arrive home, because I knew that my family was sure to be asleep. They hadn't seen me all day, save my little brother, and yet they knew I had been around and were worried about what I was doing. I had left no evidence of my presence, and still they had my word on what I was to be doing.

I arrived at my home. Because my garage remote was out of batteries, I've been having to park my car in the driveway, go and open the garage, then go back to my car and drive it in. It was a hassle, but my car was new, and so I didn't want to leave it outside. This time, I wondered to myself, when does my car become old enough that I can leave it outside without fearing for it? If I never leave my car outside, what will I gain by not fearing for the wear brought by the rain, or the rust brought by the morning fog? When does love mature enough that it can be left outside and grow on trust alone?

I turned my car off, closed the garage, and went into the dark house.