The Freedom Machine

Motor Vehicles have been a symbol of freedom for as long as I can remember. From the moment I sat down in my first car, I felt a sense of release. I was un-tethered from the parental guidance that oppressed me. The ability to transport myself wherever I wished with the turn of a key was exhilarating. The feelings during those moments are still ingrained in my soul.

With the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, I could just drive. I did not need a destination. I could just crank up the radio and get lost. The uncertainty that lurked around each turn made each trip a mystery and an adventure. Looking into the rear-view mirror was like glancing through a portal and seeing the past. Sometimes I would take a deep breath and put the gas pedal to the floor. As the car accelerated, I felt as if my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. It was thrilling, scary even. I could do almost anything that I wanted in my car. I did not have a care in the world.

These days, my car takes on a much different tone. Now that I am much older, money became an issue. It just seems irrational to drive around wasting gasoline and adding miles to my vehicle. The freedom machine of my youth officially lost its luster. I still hope to get back there at some point, because I do believe that there is something almost therapeutic about just going for a drive. When I was a teenager, I remember telling my mom that I was going out. She would always ask, “Where are you going?” My usual response was, “I’m just gonna go drivin’ around.” It is difficult for me to wrap my mind around this statement now. When go for a drive these days, it is just to get from point A to point B. I always have a premeditated destination. The freedom machine is now used for nothing more than function.

Perhaps this is why a lot of adults go through a mid-life crisis. It would seem to me that one of the best ways to relive ones youth is to channel some of these feelings. The older gentleman that just passed in his brand new Corvette with the convertible top down is probably trying to inject the adventure back into his life. I am sure that will be me one day. I am only thirty-one and I already yearn for the feeling of freedom that my car once bestowed upon me.