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I have maintained for years now that “October is the best time to drive with the windows down.” The temperature is agreeable and the air is still enough. The sunlight can be cherished a bit longer, along with the plentiful pomegranates, before daylight saving’s end abrasively severs any remaining ties with the summer behind us. Although the customary fall chill has not yet returned this season, the dark dawns I seldom witness, mostly marked by absent birdsong, tell of an impending cold. The days end as a blanket of darkness and brisk breezes take flight with no particular course, but rather with the intent to linger and consume. I turn my key in the ignition, to which the engine rumbles and the unmistakable scent of burning gasoline can be inhaled, for the windows are already rolled down. The wheels turn.
With good music playing perhaps too loudly through four speakers, the now regular October night drives have provided for a time to plot. My vehicle is rendered a temple of moving reflection. In his book about attention and deep rumination (Stolen Focus), Johann Hari writes that our minds naturally wander while even engaging in something as active and precise as reading. I imagine, then, that it is perfectly okay for my often opposed thoughts to wrestle while I’m on very familiar commutes to — like the air around me — nowhere. Let’s go for a ride.
