drive

if gasoline weren't so expensive right now, i'd be going for nightly therapy sessions along the highway.

i've noticed that the best mood i find myself in during the last few weeks is when i'm driving. i sing in the car -- at the top of my lungs, even. i laugh, whether at lyrics playing on my cd player, at other drivers on the road, or even at myself or something funny i happened to remember. i feel beautiful, what with the windows down and my sunroof wide open, the wind ruffling my hair and the wonderous portland smells wafting in at me. sometimes i'll be sucking on a black clove cigarette. not healthy, i know, but the mellow wave that comes over me as it hits my bloodstream, and the yummy taste of molasses on my lips is just heaven.

i know those streets backwards and forwards. i know where most --if not all-- of them lead. there's no place in both the entire portland metro area, hillsboro, or vancouver where i can get lost.

on the road, i am so free...

the Funkmobile's a manual, so there's an even greater sense of power, of me and the Funkmobile melding into One as we fly down four lanes of portland freeway, or two lanes of back-end country lanes with such beautiful scenery it sometimes actually brings tears to my eyes.

during *m*'s visit, he drove everywhere. the only time i got to drive was when i was driving my own ass to and from work. otherwise, he was in the driver's seat, even when we were driving around my own town. yeah, i know on the outside the Funkmobile's really a pretty dinky piece o'crap. but, honestly, my car's a lot like me. not much to look at on the outside, but there's a lot of spunk, and a speed and power that'd take you by complete surprise. and i handle her very well, if i do say so myself. he's in love with his car, and i can understand that, but for love of the Funk, give me a fucking turn, too. jeezus...

i had to come home to feel like an adult and enjoy my own freedom. the entire time, with *m* driving, i'd point out something special or beautiful that meant something to me, and he'd say, "i'm busy driving," so i finally gave up trying to share my city with him. had i been behind the wheel, i could've pointed things out to him and he would have been able to look and enjoy them. i'm dynamic and engaging when i'm driving. i can laugh and tell jokes and have a conversation. in *m*'s car, i was quiet, we barely talked, and he channel surfed his satellite radio stations as bad as any man with a remote and widescreen t.v. mainly, i stared out the window, bored as absolute fuck, tried not to get carsick, and pretty much felt like i was being chauffeured everywhere. even during the entire road trip from portland to idaho, i sat shotgun. i'd offered to take my turn, several times, the night before, but i guess i was ignored.

i suppose i'll just have to give up hoping that i'll get to share that kind of experience with *m* and just go out driving alone, or out driving with my friends. except, oh wait. when i move, i won't have any friends.