Drive in, Drive Out

I have a love/hate relationship with driving. I love road trips, long or short. They are, of course, more enjoyable with company, but with the right soundtrack (rain, sunshine, and night time all have their appropriate tunes), I think any trip can be fun. I hate driving in cities, or overly congested areas, particularly if said area is congested with trucks and drivers who seem only to care about their own plans. We've all encountered them: those who tailgate, those who drive in an unruly manner, those who don't signal, or those who either don't turn on their lights, or who drive at you at night with their high-beams in full force.

Plus, I've had some less than-favorable experiences while driving:

Once, while lost in rural Pennsylvania, shuttling two new students I'd only met the day before (thank you, college), I found myself being tailgated by two men in a pick-up truck. They were clearly frustrated by my resistance to travel more than five miles above the speed limit, and showed their anger through a series of inappropriate hand gestures and animated facial expressions. Minutes later, they finally passed me, despite the double yellow lines on the road, and as they did so, the passenger mimed pulling a shotgun at me. Not so fun.

Another time, I had the misfortune of driving through a tornado-induced wind and rain storm, once again shuttling around some new students. I drove in the pouring rain (awful, for those who have never done it), with no place to pull over and stop. Meanwhile, power lines were literally exploding behind me, several of the streets were flooded, and road after road was dead-ended by fallen trees. That drive was one of the few times where I have genuinely thought that I could be harmed.

What brings on these thoughts, you may ask? Taking a long drive, of course - something that is most often an important aspect of traveling.

A few weeks ago, I drove to my former roommate's house near West Chester, Pennsylvania, for a small reunion of sorts. Fortunately, the drive was fairly straightforward, and as an added bonus, I had the company of two close friends and a great album.

However, the interstate was inundated with trucks and some crazy drivers, something I've learned to live with, but certainly don't like. In those moments when I pass a truck or am around a haphazard driver, my chest tightens ever-so-slightly. For someone like me, who has the tendency to think too much about things, those moments can be problematic. After all, safety isn't necessarily guaranteed just because I (or you) do everything correctly. Just ask the dent in my car.

Overall, I'm far too rational to let my paranoia impede my driving, but that same rationality tells me that there's nothing wrong with exercising a little caution. The right lane is often a comfortable place for me to be.

And so when my desire to drive cross-country finally becomes a reality, there will no doubt be several moments of fleeting fear. Future traveling companions, I apologize in advance. Might I suggest distracting me with some salty snacks? Family size is usually a safe bet.