sparklepire: Anne of Green Gables (Writer at work)
Joyride

Isn't it crazy how time changes so much and yet so little? I went on countless trips with my gram and gramps while growing up. You wouldn't believe how much I loved that station wagon. It was old and they never got a cd player or anything like that. Roadtrips were days of cassettes and singing 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall when we got sick of the Lynyrd Skynyrd. You'd never know how big the Great Lakes were until you'd driven clear around them. They looked exactly like the ocean, and they had their own seabirds.

High school changed the reasons. We were all running away from something, or running to. Can't remember what, even when I try. It was such a rush of adrenaline to fly down the twisting highways at 80mph or more. Everyone thinks they're invincible in high school. I straddled the gearshift and flung my arms up through the skylight, roaring down those icy roads in the middle of the night. We howled at the moon then, feral creatures beneath the stars. Joyride.

By eighteen the thrill's faded. Sure it's fun, it's great to go places and see new things. It's tiring though, even while it's comforting. Time flies and you wake up with your cheek cold against the passenger window. Miles have gone by; you're somewhere new. Suddenly it's a relief to get out and stretch your legs. Suddenly you remember how someone used to say "oooh it feels so good to stretch my back!" It's not exactly a joyride anymore, it's life.

Living's all about moving from one place to another.

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Viv

January 2011

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