The Getaway

I wonder if you'll understand what I mean when I say it's not the arriving, it's the getting there. I've been told that the sublime pleasure I feel while I'm behind the wheel has more to do with getting away from something than getting anywhere. I suppose I can accept that diagnosis.

An old memory settled over my eyes and, long before I took the corner, I was once again huddled in the back seat of one of those giant cars people drove in the seventies. The persistent smell of cigarettes from the front seat, the whine of over inflated tires on scorched asphalt and the occasional squeal from my sister developed into an aural backdrop to the repetitive wave and glide of the countryside as it streamed by, faster than the legal limit, and I saw the world as a mutable companion to my aspirations and kept it locked up and fed it a diet of lonely whimsy and cotton mouthed sentiments. Lulled into a hypnotic state by the rise and fall of wires strung across the world, the fanciful explanations I gorged on would come back up as bitter truth when the car stopped and the weekend arrived. From my perspective, it was over when the doors opened and the supplies and coolers piled out, the tent went up and the obligatory exploration of the washroom and shower building was begun. We hadn't left anything behind, though, or had tried but had been beaten to the site by spirits of disagreement, regret and accusatory recrimination and they had taken most of the room, leaving us with the beach and maybe the playground. The disappointment I felt eroded the anticipation as quickly as waves will a sand castle, built too close to the water, but perfectly symmetrical and aligned with the sun, one door and a spire for everyone and one in the middle for a lookout. Lookout.

Where can I go now? Does it even matter? As long as the drive deepens my reveries and opens the door to possibilities beyond the mundane act of getting from point A to point B, I will drive and maybe stop at a country store for a drink and a pack of cigarettes but unless you see something that looks different from where we've been I don't think I'll pull over just yet.