When I was a small child, I loved traveling. I loved to get strapped in and go from my boring house to another, more exciting location. To my grandparents in Nebraska to the occasional vacation to Chicago, anywhere was fine with me. I’m older now, but I still love those trips. But when I was a kid, I loathed one part, the in-between segment. Kansas is nothing but endless planes of green grass and yellow wheat, dotted with cows and hay bales. There was nothing to do, except to listen to what my parents decided to listen to, and to wait, and to watch the landscape roll by.
Now though, the long drive is the part to savor. Life seems to be so packed now, with homework due everyday and with technology present and found in every nook and cranny. Out in the car, there’s to distract me, to occupy my time. There’s my music, in my mp3 player, yes, but it almost adds another view on the whole thing. Out in the car, I can’t speed the trip up and I can’t slow it down. I just have to take that time for myself. The constant flow and rush of motion is put on pause for a few hours.
As I mentioned, I was once a small boy and I loved to read. Places were depicted in the pages of those books, places both real and fictional, with unique weather, temperature, vegetation and people. Often I would prefer the worlds of the books to the real world (not that books aren’t great things). But, now, I realize that there is so much more to everything.
There is so much of the world to see, really. It’s a cliché, I know, but the world seems almost endless in its size and variety. Kansas, which I once saw as just being big and vast and not much else is so much more. I’ve found it to be big and vast. The sky is uncluttered by skyscrapers and things can be seen for miles on end. It’s amazing how things seem so constant, with green grass, and cows loitering about. The vastness becomes its own filler. It is not empty, it is vast. Fields are not barren, but are spacious.
The car is my portal to the world. I can view the mountains and see the lakes. I can see the thick forests and see the dust kicked up by the tires of the car. The small towns, containing only a general store, a bar and a gas station have endless stories to tell about their tightly knit community. The warmth of the Midwest and the cold of the north and the mountains of Colorado bring with them emotions, feelings and thought. Cities pulse, vibrant with the life contained inside. Lights shine in the night, illuminating everything near it. They promise technology, culture, the future. I love to look out from a distance, seeing all of these glowing lights. The car shows me the variety of the world.
The car shows me the world and all of its layers, all of its mystery, all of its energy and space. Who needs a television when you have a constantly changing, beyond hi-def picture?
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