The wind in my hair

Several years ago, I bought a car. No big deal, you say. People purchase vehicles all the time. However, this was a major purchase for me, psychologically speaking. It was totally unneeded: I had a perfectly good car in my garage that carried me from Point A to Point B with a minimum of effort. Never mind, I told myself. You need this. And I did. After some searching and research, I bought a great big bauble for myself: a convertible.

This turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life. Not only have I spent untold hours driving the back roads of Posey County, she played a significant role in another wonderful decision/adventure made just weeks after her purchase (think unexpected requests for an evening ride).

She? Her? Absolutely. This lovely vehicle definitely has female tendencies: she’s sleek and she’s glossy (the perfect shade of shiny black), she’s bold, she’s sassy (perfect little peach-colored stripes), she’s spicy (showing off with her top down)...all the best attributes of a female of the species. The speedometer says she’s fast, too, but that attribute has not – I promise – been tested. Yet.

Alas, though, she has no name. I have only ever named one car in my entire life. The first vehicle I bought some fifty years ago (aaarrrggghh) that was my very own was christened Floyd. I have no idea why the little Chevrolet something-or-other (I can’t remember the model name, but it’s long since been discontinued) but Floyd it was. I have tossed around, in my mind, some possibilities but nothing seems to fit her personality, although I continue the search. Even without a name, she’s special.

When the weather is perfect we wander the paved highways and county roads, top down, of course. No gravel roads, though, because one, it will get us, the occupants dusty, and two, and most importantly, it will get the special little lady dusty. She’s garage kept and protected from rain and snow and bird droppings, although she did park under a tree at work last year and ended up getting a new windshield, thanks to the decision of a tree to drop a limb directly through the shiny glass. She gets a nice shower fairly regularly, because the garage does get dusty (how rude). But I digress. . .

The best part of having this little toy is riding around to wherever the wind takes us. Okay, maybe not the wind directly, but whatever random direction I decide to turn the steering wheel. Those decisions may be made by whatever we’re thinking about. Or, occasionally we have a destination in mind when we leave the driveway. Usually we randomly choose the direction to begin the evening’s adventure. Look at that house...turn. What’s that smoke coming from...turn. There’s a new business in the area...turn. Should we go right or left at the next road...turn. The sun is in our eyes...turn.

Riding allows the cares of the day to slip away in the wind, or let random thoughts trigger new discussions, or to enjoy simply being outdoors with the sky directly overhead, no time frame for returning home, and realizing how fortunate we are to be able to go on these frequent rambling rides. And yes, my hair gets blown about, ending all tangled up by journey’s end. But it’s all about appreciating what we have and embracing all the moments that are within our grasp, and going where mind and body are truly one. It’s really all that matters.