That space-time feeling

So I've set a date to take the GRE: October. And in this vein, I was just spreading out the various "study for the GRE 2006" books on the pinewood children's table in front of me at the local Barnes N' Noble, when the cell phone rang. It was Lynn-nore. QE and SWR, turns out, were stranded at the airport, tired and jet-lagged from their flight from Poland. It was my job to go get them. Lucky for me, I had Hendrix with me, and it was a warm night.

You know, I don't often really drive anywhere at night any longer. I forget what a rush it is to be out with the traffic and the neon and everyone moving and braking and shuffling around in position. Jimi was just breaking into the to-die-for opening montage of "Voodoo Child" when I crested the highway and could see Boston. Wow, I love the city. It has been quite awhile since I've seen it at night, and it looked great. Lynn-nore and I rarely actually go in; few people do. Boston is like most other big cities, you enjoy it if you live inside. If you are on the outisde, you like the idea of it. You occasionally remember that it exists. What does happen in there is usually too expensive to attend anyway. But, hey, it does look nice on a Summer evening, like a gaudy Christmas tree ornament dangling from the strong limb of the American Leviathan. The phone rings again just when I'm sliding into the blood stream (Lynn-nore and my term for the frenetic circulatory-system of Logan Airport.) Turns out, their ride was only late and I'm there for nothing.

Swerving into an exit, and putting the city behind me, I couldn't help but think of other times in my life when it has just felt good to drive. Crossing the Mississippi river at 11pm listening to early 70's metal and the Doors; driving through Knoxville at dusk at 85mph on any summer evening; Cruising around Myrtle Beach talking to Wes and listening to U2, INXS, the Church, the Cure, Bon Scott-era AC/DC on my Alpine - really just about anytime Wes and I just took off for nowhere counts as worthwhile and worth doing again. I remember riding around after midnight with Adam the weekend before we both went to college. He was going one way, I was going another, and neither of us had any idea what the heck we were doing or who we were. We drove around just to escape and to talk about the need to escape. That long drive from Texas City, up through Louisiana and the American South in 1988. Driving is synonymous at times with being alive, or with stepping out and looking back at things. Here's how Marshall Berman puts it in All That is Solid Melts Into Air: The Experience of Modernity (Penguine 1982):

"As with many of the creations born out of the spirit of this age [Modernity's] meaning and beauty cannot be grasped from a single point of observation. It can be revealed only by movement, by going along in a steady flow, as the rules of traffic prescribe. The space-time feeling of our period can seldom be felt so keenly as when driving." (p. 302)