Moving right along....
Nov. 15th, 2001 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyspriteDriving at night is like being transported somehow into an alternate universe, one made up of darkness and motion, where you're the only person there, and nothing exists except the car, the road, and you. There's a feeling of isolation, of depth to the quiet that doesn't exist at any other time, and of a freezing of time itself in the sameness and rhythm of the ride.
Black pavement beneath me, black trees beside me, black sky above me. Neither stars nor moon pierce the veil of clouds, making an eerie sameness between ground and sky. The dashed white lines stretch on towards infinity, hypnotic in their pattern. Ahead of me, occasional tail-lights flash, their redness a menacing glare that is, at the same time, reassuring, reminding me that other people still exist and share the world and the road. On the other side of the road, white headlights sparkle towards me like will-o-the-wisps, closet monsters commuting out to a thousand suburban bedrooms.
Sometimes the quiet is too much, and I need to turn the radio on. Dar Williams, Ella Fitzgerald, Barenaked Ladies, or any of a dozen other voice-of-the-hour friends ride shotgun with me, pushing the noiselessness away. Other times, the silence is what I need, and I let the hum of the wheels and the rush of the air fill my senses and create the background for my thoughts.
The morning commute is nothing like this - all too-bright colors of sun on mirrors, neon schoolbuses, and the harsh-edged voices of morning DJ's. Even the sleepiness of the other drivers is an energetic force in and of itself. At night, the energy is at once calmer and less tame, and the highway seems to wind through a different world than the same stretch of road follows through the day.
I've never loved driving, but at night, I can understand the people who do....
Black pavement beneath me, black trees beside me, black sky above me. Neither stars nor moon pierce the veil of clouds, making an eerie sameness between ground and sky. The dashed white lines stretch on towards infinity, hypnotic in their pattern. Ahead of me, occasional tail-lights flash, their redness a menacing glare that is, at the same time, reassuring, reminding me that other people still exist and share the world and the road. On the other side of the road, white headlights sparkle towards me like will-o-the-wisps, closet monsters commuting out to a thousand suburban bedrooms.
Sometimes the quiet is too much, and I need to turn the radio on. Dar Williams, Ella Fitzgerald, Barenaked Ladies, or any of a dozen other voice-of-the-hour friends ride shotgun with me, pushing the noiselessness away. Other times, the silence is what I need, and I let the hum of the wheels and the rush of the air fill my senses and create the background for my thoughts.
The morning commute is nothing like this - all too-bright colors of sun on mirrors, neon schoolbuses, and the harsh-edged voices of morning DJ's. Even the sleepiness of the other drivers is an energetic force in and of itself. At night, the energy is at once calmer and less tame, and the highway seems to wind through a different world than the same stretch of road follows through the day.
I've never loved driving, but at night, I can understand the people who do....
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What an evocative post
Date: 2001-11-16 04:25 pm (UTC)Wow.
You write well. I'm going to be looking forward to reading your posts. Most definitely.
-Bill