Most of the time, I am actively trying to ignore life as I drive. I use driving time to sing and ponder. I don't know where this habit came from, but I don't care about anything around me when I'm behind the wheel.
But, sometimes, on particularly beautiful days, I am suddenly keenly aware that I am driving on a twisting concrete bridge overpass, and it looks like I am jetting into the sky! Driving directly into clouds! This is the stuff 18th Century dreams are made of! Isn't that nuts? I soar in my whizzing metallic box closer and closer to the moon!
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One of my favorite books of all time is Fahrenheit 451. The first time I read it the following quote flat out stung. It still pops into my head from time to time when I need it.
"I sometimes think drivers don’t know what grass is, or flowers, because they never see them slowly. If you showed a driver a green blur, Oh yes! he’d say, that’s grass! A pink blur! That’s a rose garden! White blurs are houses. Brown blurs are cows. My uncle drove slowly on a highway once. He drove forty miles per hour and they jailed him for two days. Isn’t that funny, and sad, too?"
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