It’s being a teenager and getting your first real taste of freedom. It’s pulling out of your driveway and knowing, for the first time, you have control of your own destiny. Turn left or turn right. It suddenly clicks that your life is an open ended story. You are Master and Commander. Unless, of course, you’re instructed to just get some milk from the store.
It’s piling in with all your friends and hitting a club, or a party, or going to the mall, or just driving to the edge of town where you can see the lights of the city and make jokes and talk about everything and nothing for hours on end.
It’s heading out to the open road to destinations unknown. It’s getting out of your two horse town to somewhere big, exciting and teeming with endless possibilities. It’s getting out of your miserable, crowded metropolis and finding your song and your soul in some quiet corner of the desert where the sunsets are so glorious it makes the divine seems possible.
It’s having a big smile on your face because in your head you are imaging yourself as Steve McQueen in Bullet, or Burt Reynolds in Smokey and the Bandit, or turning your budget car into a Lamborghini Miura and zig-zagging through the Swiss Alps in The Italian Job (before, obviously, you slam into a mafia-controlled bulldozer). It’s cranking the stereo well beyond approved occupational health and safety limits because Tom Petty is running down a dream and, dammit, so are you.
It’s taking your wife to the hospital as her contractions get more frequent, and you wonder if you’ll even make it to the maternity ward in time. It’s driving your kid to their first dance recital, or their first parent/teacher conference. It’s packing up the family to go get pizza, then go to the movies. It’s driving across town to comfort a friend, or meet a first date. It’s putting everything you own into the trunk, and setting out to make a life. It’s putting everything you have left into the back seat, and setting out to find somewhere to start again.
It’s pouring your heart and soul, and wallet, into making something cool. It’s long nights in the garage, and shouting out expletives that would make a merchant sailor blush. It’s bruised knuckles, oily clothes and saying for the hundredth time that you’re done, and you’ll just pay somebody to just tow away that miserable piece of shit.
Then, after all that, it’s having it start up. That feeling, right there.
It’s about driving around and have everyone eye your ride, while they’re stuck in generic econoboxes and soulless minivans. That feeling, right there.
It’s being a teenager again, but doing it right this time. It’s about not letting go of your dream car, or your dreams, again.
Get in. Let’s go.