I Feel Speed

You want to know why I am compelled to hang on to my car, despite how impractical and inherently superficial it is? Of course you do, because you're a human being with a brain! Forgive the stupid question. I will get right down to it.

When I'm driving my car, I get to interact with REAL people - those parts of people that reflect some fundamental aspect of their real selves, without the five-layer bullshit-burrito-sandwich of everyday socialization. When people are in their cars, those cars become the physical representations of their psychological space - and when the boundaries of those spaces interact, they do so in exact accordance with the laws of actual psychology, rather than simple sociology. People drive half the speed limit in the fast lane... on purpose; people pass you from the slow lane just to get fifteen feet in front of you... then slow down to the exact same speed as you for an hour without batting an eyelash; people cut you off, then slam on their brakes because they want you to hit them and they want the chance to feel justified in hitting you back hard enough to kill you - because you saw the break in traffic at that last onramp and got ahead, while they fell behind.

When people drive, it's their animal instincts behind the wheel. Now, sure, for some people, those instincts have devolved to "following the car in front of you until you get to your stop," but every once in awhile, even in those non-living members of our non-functioning society, a spark of perfectly rational, totally-justifiable rage will lash out at you as you're passing them by, because they know that your speed can be an analogy of your progress and self-control - and they don't want to be reminded of how pathetic and afraid they are. Even those brief little moments of loss-of-control are hopeful; they might be the only truthful reactions left in life, for some people.

I like driving because it reminds me that some people still have real humanity left, and that they're literally dying to let it out - just let it out and fucking destroy this sham of an existence that everyone's bought into and continues to perpetuate. When driving, people are aware—on at least some level—of their rights to have personal space and absolute control over it - and because they're isolated from the toxic environment of direct social contact and the unnatural burdens of social connectivity, they aren't as afraid to defend their hard-fought and well-deserved territory... as is their nature and sovereign birthright. 

Every once in awhile, I encounter a few people on the road who aren't complete fucking pussies - and it makes me smile in appreciation... even as I swerve to bait them into a hopefully-fatal accident, after they cut me off when I was kind enough to let them merge. I'm always the king of the jungle in my car, because I'm the more skilled driver - but god damnit, it's just really fucking nice to see some teeth every once in awhile, even if it's from paltry hyena.

I'll always have the highway.