60 in a 35

I love cars. They can be so many different things, depending on what you need and how you use them. Obviously, cars are for transportation, but where you are coming from, where you are going, and why can vary greatly. I've often used my vehicle as a get away car, fleeing the scene of wrecks I'm caused in my life. I've used cars to speed me to loved ones. I've used cars to get me to where I make a living and to the places that have taught me how to make a better one. I've used my car to transport my mind as well, the steady rhythme of the road and the steady messages of the music I play allowing my mind to make gigantic trips. After a particularly nasty incident with a salesperson, I used a car to brutalize the object of my anger. (At least in my mind as I ran over pedestrians. In Grand Theft Auto III.)

Tonight I used a car to get the thrill that I had been seeking elsewhere. Tonight I was somewhere that I didn't plan on being. I thought I would have a handy excuse with work and night classes to gain some distance, both for thinking and to heighten the experience I was expecting over the weekend, when there was no work to rush off to the next morning and plenty of time for play all night. The time constraints of the work week doesn't allow for such fun then. But, as the best laid plans of mice and men go astray, so do I. And my plans. While I went to the place I go to for fun, that kinda of fun was not to be had tonight, leaving me to drive home alone, with no encouragement that I would be fulfilled anytime soon, to find my own amusement. The streets here in the suburbs are pretty dead at 11pm on a Wednesday night, at least compared to the larger cities I have lived in, or even the suburb my Grandmother lives in. So I drove as hard and fast as I could down the straight road that leads back to my house. Not as fulfilling as what I wanted, but I guess it will have to do.

Ani Difranco - Shy
the heat is so great
it plays tricks with the eye
it turns the road to water
and then from water to sky
and there's a crack in the concrete floor
and it starts at the sink
there's a bathroom in a gas station
and i've locked myself in it to think

and back in the city
the sun bakes the trash on the curb
the men are pissing in doorways
and the rats run in herds
i've got a dream of your face
that scares me awake
i put too much on my table
and now i got too much a stake

and i might let you off easy
yeah i might lead you on
i might wait for you to look for me
and then i might be gone
where i come from and where i'm going
and i'm lost in between
i might go up to that phone booth
and leave a veiled invitation on you machine

and you'll stop me, won't you
if you've heard this one before
the one where i surprise you
by showing up at your front door
saying 'let's not ask what's next,
or how, or why'
i am leaving in the morning
so let's not be shy

the door opens, the room winces
the housekeeper comes in without a warning
and i squint at the muscular motel lady
say 'hey good morning'
and she jumps, her keys jingle
and she leaves as quick as she came in
and i roll over and taste the pillow with my grin

well, the sheets are twisted and damp
and the heat is so great
and i swear i can feel the mattress
sinking underneath your weight
oh sleep is like a fever
and I'm glad when it ends
and the road flows like a river
and pulls me around every bend

and you'll stop me, won't you...
if you've heard this one before
the one where i surprise you
by showing up at your front door
saying 'let's not ask what's next,
or how, or why
i am leaving in the morning
so let's not be shy

the heat is so great
it plays tricks with the eye
it turns road to water
and water to sky
and there's a crack in the concrete floor
and it starts at the sink
there's a bathroom in a gas station
and i've locked myself
in it to think

and you'll stop me, won't you...
if you've heard this one before
the one where i surprise you
by showing up at your front door
saying 'let's not ask what's next,
or how, or why'
i am leaving in the morning
so let's not be shy