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After signing for the car I rented today while our Buick was in for repairs, I headed for I-64. I wanted to take the rental, a black Chevy Cavalier, out on the highway. But I drove past the entrance to 64. I just kept driving East on 250. I didn't want to stop as the road narrowed and the trees grew thicker around me. This was the first time I'd left the house since Wednesday evening. I have been sick since before then and finally locked myself inside for the long Thanksgiving weekend. Consequently, I felt such a joyous sense of freedom in that car. I wanted to keep on driving. I'd drive until I hit Richmond.
However, while I took the day off work as I'm still recovering from this illness, I did intend to go to my class at the university. So, I turned around, picking up 64 further east, and headed for home. Then, going west, I just wanted to keep on driving until I hit the mountains. But I didn't. Not yet. I went to class. When I got home, I decided to seize the day. Or the early evening, at least. I had lost my entire Thanksgiving holiday weekend to a terrible sore throat and various other symptoms of a nasty virus. I needed at least a few hours of a real vacation before returning to work. Screw the bills, the homework, and the pile of dishes waiting for me. I grabbed some leftover cold turkey, a granola bar, and single slice of brown rice bread; filled a water bottle; grabbed an Ego Likeness CD and also one by Lacrimosa; and I got back in the car.
I drove west. Back on I-64. I drove west until I hit the mountains. At the outset, I realized that I have never made a trip outside of Charlottesville alone. At least none that I can remember. I'm so bound to my wife (glady, I should add), that I never leave town without her. It has probably been about 5 years since I've taken a car out by myself with a destination in mind further away than a local grocery store. This would have been when I was still driving my red Chevy Cavalier that I had inherited from my grandmother toward the end of my college days, before we started using my wife's stick-shift. I couldn't drive stick. Still can't. At first, I actually felt a little nervous when this realization set in, which is not unusual for me when I'm encountering something new. What if I wrecked the rental? What if I missed a turn? I'm usually terrible with directions, but I've driven this road to the mountains countless times now. Before long, I was relaxed.
I hit Waynesboro and got on the Blue Ridge Parkway as the sun was going down. I twisted and turned for a several miles with the music blaring, resisting the urge to sing because my throat still hurt. I stopped at the Raven's Roost overlook. It was empty. Just me, the mountain-side, and the valley below. I ate my dinner inside the warm car. I stepped out to throw away my trash and stayed outside. The last time I was at this overlook, it had been bone chilling cold. Tonight, there was no wind and it felt warm in comparison. I climbed on the rock cliff and watched the lights in the valley blink on as the light above faded from the cloudy sky. This is living, I thought. I was glad I made the trip, despite being sick. Despite the pile of dishes at home. The homework waiting to be done. The check book to balance. No...this was living. Doing something I hadn't done before. A lonely, spontaneous mountain trip.
Feeling philosophical, my mind churned over my place on this earth. I remembered being lost, all too recently. I lost myself. So, I started looking for me. Trying new things, attempting to make connections with new things in order to define myself again. In time, I found new goals and activities I enjoy, but it turns out they don't define my purpose. The way I figure it, the very act of searching for new things is how I define myself now. Change is inevitable, so why not embrace it? Always be on the look out for new opportunities and activities. Don't define myself through those activities, but rather through the process by which I discover them and explore them. Some will appeal to me, some will not. There will be successes and failures. This, to me, just sounds like living. What better purpose is there in this life?
However, while I took the day off work as I'm still recovering from this illness, I did intend to go to my class at the university. So, I turned around, picking up 64 further east, and headed for home. Then, going west, I just wanted to keep on driving until I hit the mountains. But I didn't. Not yet. I went to class. When I got home, I decided to seize the day. Or the early evening, at least. I had lost my entire Thanksgiving holiday weekend to a terrible sore throat and various other symptoms of a nasty virus. I needed at least a few hours of a real vacation before returning to work. Screw the bills, the homework, and the pile of dishes waiting for me. I grabbed some leftover cold turkey, a granola bar, and single slice of brown rice bread; filled a water bottle; grabbed an Ego Likeness CD and also one by Lacrimosa; and I got back in the car.
I drove west. Back on I-64. I drove west until I hit the mountains. At the outset, I realized that I have never made a trip outside of Charlottesville alone. At least none that I can remember. I'm so bound to my wife (glady, I should add), that I never leave town without her. It has probably been about 5 years since I've taken a car out by myself with a destination in mind further away than a local grocery store. This would have been when I was still driving my red Chevy Cavalier that I had inherited from my grandmother toward the end of my college days, before we started using my wife's stick-shift. I couldn't drive stick. Still can't. At first, I actually felt a little nervous when this realization set in, which is not unusual for me when I'm encountering something new. What if I wrecked the rental? What if I missed a turn? I'm usually terrible with directions, but I've driven this road to the mountains countless times now. Before long, I was relaxed.
I hit Waynesboro and got on the Blue Ridge Parkway as the sun was going down. I twisted and turned for a several miles with the music blaring, resisting the urge to sing because my throat still hurt. I stopped at the Raven's Roost overlook. It was empty. Just me, the mountain-side, and the valley below. I ate my dinner inside the warm car. I stepped out to throw away my trash and stayed outside. The last time I was at this overlook, it had been bone chilling cold. Tonight, there was no wind and it felt warm in comparison. I climbed on the rock cliff and watched the lights in the valley blink on as the light above faded from the cloudy sky. This is living, I thought. I was glad I made the trip, despite being sick. Despite the pile of dishes at home. The homework waiting to be done. The check book to balance. No...this was living. Doing something I hadn't done before. A lonely, spontaneous mountain trip.
Feeling philosophical, my mind churned over my place on this earth. I remembered being lost, all too recently. I lost myself. So, I started looking for me. Trying new things, attempting to make connections with new things in order to define myself again. In time, I found new goals and activities I enjoy, but it turns out they don't define my purpose. The way I figure it, the very act of searching for new things is how I define myself now. Change is inevitable, so why not embrace it? Always be on the look out for new opportunities and activities. Don't define myself through those activities, but rather through the process by which I discover them and explore them. Some will appeal to me, some will not. There will be successes and failures. This, to me, just sounds like living. What better purpose is there in this life?
