There's something about the wheel in my hands and my foot on the gas that clears my mind. Whether it be asphalt, gravel or dirt, as long as the radio is on and the tank is full things are in good shape. It's safe to say I like to drive whenever I go somewhere. If a group of friends ever want to go to the city to bowl or catch a movie, I'm generally the first one to say "get in the truck and let's go."
The driver's seat is my friend, whether its a four wheel drive truck or a turbocharged V-8 made for the sole purpose of giving those foreign sports cars a run for their money.
Yesterday I had the opportunity to spend a few hours riding around various backroads and byways in and around Mayberry. Yes, I said riding. I actually sat.. in the... passenger seat. As in, I was not in complete control of the vehicle.
It should have been nerve-wracking, but strangely enough I didn't mind too much.
And some of the flowers my niece picked for me.
Come to think of it, it was oddly relaxing to be in the passenger seat. There were no worries of speeding tickets, maneuvering around potholes, taking a wrong turn down the second gravel road on the right, running over snakes or hitting the stray cow in the road. There were, however, worries of my driver losing control of the vehicle, but....
I must have really trusted him to not lose control of the truck.
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