Nighttime Drive

Imagine: a dark, starry night. I drove silently down a long dark road, the curves gently rocking me into a state of semi-paranoia. I slowly rolled all the windows down and the wind smacked into my face. The road I drove was empty, and again I realized that only Here could I feel comfortable. Dismiss the thought of a busy city sidewalk; it never existed in my perspective. Streetlights lined the side of the road, washing the scenery in an awkward orange glow and I glanced at them as the car slid through the air, my hand guiding this machine of speed and power. Have you ever listened to the chirping and buzzing and whirling of bugs as you drove; if you did you would hear a distortion. The sound would rise then drop as you sped past, the sound distracting me from my trance. I was going too fast; I slowed.
I think well when I drive. I don’t know why; control of something, freedom, speed, the feeling of leaving something behind or perhaps the knowledge of moving towards something. I have often seen dogs shoving their faces out of a car window, tongue lolling and rippling in the air, a look of ecstasy on their faces. I think it’s the same feeling.
Last night I felt something different. I was peaceful, but I was lonely.