Rough Riders

Much of today was spent driving around town.
Must admit, when sunny and 75, not a harsh task. Alas, the top of the convertible is latched due to my turkey leg nose but it is wonderful not to be testing the automobile interpretation of ice dancing.
When zipping on 95 (yes, I have a lead foot), I reflected on the number of people consumed with making contact with those in a galaxy far, far away. Surely that is what is happening - we are on the verge of discovering Spock's favorite planet. Everyone is so intent on diverting attention - from the cell phone, to the DVD, to the pods. No one is speaking to one another. I know the topic of cell phones and texting while driving has hit the mother overload - I am focusing on missed opportunity.
The car is a wonderful place to discover what is happening in loved one's lives. It provides an environment where sharing is natural and tales told do not survive beyond the wheels.
When playing chauffeurette for the myriad of school trips, I learned what was truly happening in the classroom. I learned who was the princess, the pea and the bad apple. As long as I stayed silent and became an extension of the steering wheel, I gleamed who was on first base and who was in left field. I was able to better comprehend the social fabric of their lives.
When providing transport to and from high school, modern music provided the veneer to explore deeper issues. The girls created tapes and forced us to name the artist and title within the first 5 notes. Inbetween discussions centered on course loads, life-goals, summer jobs, vacation destinations and, if very lucky, a bit of their love lives. Since the music broke the rhythm, it was easy to tackle tough subjects - the exit ramp was simply the next stanza. Amazing what one can learn in a 30 second span. When a particularly rockin' song hit the waves, we would burst into song with Michael beating the steering wheel and my ear-splitting voice creating cracks in the windshield.
In younger days the required games of car bingo, license plate alphabet and I Spy were constant accompaniments. We interacted with each other often wishing we had arrived where we needed to go long before it appeared on the horizon. Sometimes it was downright ugly - with me facing backward (no, I wasn't driving) to placate screeching babies - to humorous sidelights.
Truly, one of my all time favorites occurred when driving from Boston to Cincinnati. The girls were small and we were broke - hence the car piling to visit Michael's old homestead. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, Jennifer requested that Meredith remove her finger from Jennifer's nose. How special is that, think of the dexterity involved in reaching from one's car seat across the span to the other's nose - you really want to explore that nose to stretch those fingers to that point. An athlete in training. During that excursion, Michael and I decided no matter the shallowness of the piggy bank, we would fly on future pilgrimages to the fatherland.
During the years of Wendy's wrappers strewn across our feet, we gained a closeness - an understanding of our inner workings. As cars zip by with DVD screens flipped down, blu tooth and ipods attached to passengers' ears, I think of what the inhabitants are missing. A perfect opportunity to learn what is happening in the lives of those they care about.
Isn't that more important than making that dinner reservation or returning the missed business call?