Last night I attended a production of Oscar Wilde’s great The Importance of Being Earnest at the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival near Bethlehem (yes – apparently they do more than Shakespeare). The play was outstanding and I could go on for pages about it, but: 1: there aren’t pages on this interface, so it would just be one really long entry, 2: this entry is not a review. Let’s just say that I have never laughed so hard in a theatre before and move on. The play let out around 10:20 and then it was time for me to begin to drive back to lovely Churchville, Pennsylvania. Normally, when I head to the Bethlehem area I take Route 309. I’ve done a considerable amount of driving and I have to say that the stretch of 309 between Quakertown and Bethlehem is my favorite stretch of road anywhere. I have many great memories riding on it as a child, and many as an adult. When my grandmother would take us to the mountains when we were little we would always use the Quakertown Burger King as our “let the kids stretch their legs” stop. When older, 309 served as the road that took me into Bethlehem for my yearly teaching at Lehigh Microscopy School. LMS week was a very special time for me. I found great satisfaction in being able to pass on some knowledge about sample preparation to inquisitive minds. It was also nice that I would stay out to last call every night with the world’s best microscopists. We had fun – lots of fun. There was also a time when I spent two hours on 309 trying to clean myself up which culminated with me shaving in a Sonic bathroom. Alas, this entry is not about 309 either. Last night, I decided for a change so I took the 412 to 611 route home. This way is much more rural.
I love driving at night, especially on rural roads. Highways are nice, but they are very bland. Rural roads allow you to see the soul of the areas that you pass through. A lot of time is spent on winding roads through the woods. You’re focused on keeping your car between the yellow line to the left and the white line to the right. The trees close over your head so it’s as if you’re driving through a never ending tunnel. Eventually you emerge into some little town. It is dark; the town is asleep. Half a mile down you see a light beckoning for you to come closer. As you approach the writing becomes clear: “Ralph’s Feed and Grain.” The light stands as a monument to the people of this little town. Some guy, Ralph, has his whole life invested in that sign. You get a fleeting glimpse of it as you cruise by, but Ralph looks at that sign each morning before he starts his 12 hour day. You’ll pass another 50 signs like that on your way home and each is the same – stores that the townspeople rely on, run by folks who have devoted their lives to providing services.
I always drive at night with the sunroof open and the windows down. That way you can smell your environment. For a while you can smell someone’s wood burning fireplace. A little while later you can smell the corn field that you are passing. It gives you a better connection to the land that you are traveling through. At any point, weather permitting, you can look up and see the heavens staring back at you. Thousands of stars, assembled to watch you make your journey home. Do they know something that we don’t? I highly doubt it – science says that we will be long dead before they see us. Likewise, they may be long dead before we ever see them. Still, I always wish them a good evening.
The sound of your ride cannot be neglected. For me, I always play Mazzy Star’s So Tonight that I Might See. It’s the perfect soundscape for night driving. Its melancholy sounds are those of a dreamland. To me, night driving is like being in a dream. Everything is dark so you have to envision your own surroundings. You paint your environment as you see fit. And then there are the non-musical sounds. The wind that rushing through my windows was blowing around the pages of a letter filled notebook on my back seat. That got me thinking about those letters. The wind can be thought provoking if you let it. You also may hear the sounds of other passing vehicles. It’s nice to know that there are other people out there doing the same thing you are. I wonder if they are giving it as much thought.
Somewhere around the halfway point, you start to get tired. For me, it starts with a headache. It’s that sort of uncomfortable feeling where you say to yourself, “Self, I would love to go to bed, but I have a feeling that once I do, I’ll just lay there wide awake.” It’s a feeling of exhaustion without any accompaniment from sleepiness. The relaxing qualities of the night entice your brain to think about the things that define you. It’s a time for honest reflection. What do I want? What have I done? Where do I want to go? Why did I react that way? Things like that. This sort of stuff tuckers a man out. By the time you get almost home, the sleepiness has arrived. You stare off into space, trying your hardest to keep you car between the lines.
When you finally get home, you’re not tired anymore. You crawl into bed and stare at your ceiling. There is a sense of accomplishment. You were a journeyman – exploring through the darkness of the land and the darkness of your mind. It’s a magnificent feeling; it’s a passion of mine. Night driving gives a man a feeling of complete self-reliance. How he chooses to fill that time is his own issue. I would recommend really allowing his mind to wander – he might just find something wonderful.
No comments:
Post a Comment