Drive Tapes

I left work Friday after wrapping up a complex project, helping a work mate with a broken leg get his gear down the stairs to his waiting parents, and after saying bye to another work mate of over twenty years, who has left us for the competition. I had a lot of emotion - all sorts - added on top of the already deep turbulence of the last few months.

So I boiled out to my car taking long fast strides, already hearing in my mind the bass guitar. I opened the Wink and dropped into the cockpit with one smooth motion, fired up the engine, popped in Drive Tape 1, cranked the volume, maxed the bass, balanced all four speakers, swung out of the space, chirped the tires, and headed for the highway. I merged into heavy traffic with the rhythm pushing everything, strong rolling guitars and a good voice over it. I Jersey changed for the far left, already joining the singer, floored it to pass a crawling truck, and reached the speed limit before the refrain finished.

The entire trip home I alternated between swearing and hollering with good humor at sloppy traffic patterns around me and singing at the top of my lungs with the music. I fast forwarded over one song because it was too slow, shouted with joy when another began that is particularly great for driving. When I got to Hillsborough on I-40 I didn't get off at my exit, but passed it to the merge with I-85. The Wink and I love a great curve, and we took the slingshot ramp to double back east, and smoothly merged already doing 65.

The tape side ended at the bottom of the other Hillsborough exit, and I went downtown to the gallery's September featured artist show, the one I would have been in had I stayed. I had to park way out on Tryon Street as the Last Friday crowd had already descended. I whistled improv blues, very loud, in the gorgeous weather all the way into town, met my former gallery mates, shared a little champagne, bought a small piece by the artist who would have been showing with me, had I stayed, and turned in my keys, having already cashed in the month before.

I drove home in silence, emotions played out, tired but contented somehow.

(Photo from soumit's Flickr pages - thanks for sharing!)