Cory Fonger

English 11

Prof. Hargraves

29/september/2001

Joy of Driving

Many People do not like driving. They find it

boring, a chore and something not to be enjoyed. I don't

fit into this category. I do not think of the automobile

as a tool, a vessel merely to bring you from one point to

another. I have an innate enthusiasm for moving along in

my own personal vehicle, a little black box. When I drive

this box, I feel almost as if the vehicle was an

extension of my body.

Every morning I walk outside, in the cool air of

dawn, I head towards my car. I see sitting before me a

cold, steel, black box on four rubber rollers. A smirk

cracks across my frozen face. It is such a nice glossy

black. I suppose our human instincts aren't much

different from a crows attraction to shiny objects. I run

my hand over the smooth surfaces and gentle creases in

the coachwork of the car, ending at the door handle. An

odd protrusion this handle, jutting out and interrupting

the lines of this little black box. Squeezing the handle

allows entry, (which one who does not ride regularly

doesn't seem able to figure out) rather than pulling.

Upon entry the cars' essence, pleasant to those who are

familiar, smelling faintly of petrol products and heated

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vinyl, plastic, and upholstery. Stepping down to the seat,

I rest my bottom, snugly between the firm suppostive

bolsters. Shutting the door, I take a breath, once again

inhaling the faint, familiar odor, grinning. I reach into

my pocket and remove the key gripping it between thumb

and index finger. I raise the key to its counterpart on

the dash, then insert and twist. My morning awakening

begins. The car gives a small jolt then a bark comes

forth first in front of my feet, then under me, exiting

to the rear. What a delightful sound, this is what warms

me up in the morning. A constant, low purr emanates from

from this cold metel beast. I have given it life. I sit

and revel in the sounds, waitin for us to warm up.

Warm air flows throughout the cockpit and warms my

chilled body, the signal we are ready to go. My hand

grips the knobbed end of the shift stalk, pushing it to

its first position. I tap the accelerator with my right

foot briefly, and the engine ahead lets out a growl like

a playful tiger beckoning to be entertained. This steel

creature stirs from its resting place and starts off

steady, but gains speed swiftly, requiring the gear

selector to be shifted to its second place then on until

it reaches its final gearing. Now we are galloping past

home and vegetation alike. We are speeding through space,

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hoping to make time. Around curves, the animated box

shifts its weight settling into position, gripping the

asphalt. I feel these variations in the beasts behavior

throughout me. I feel all that it feels, I have been

assimilated, becoming the brain of this beast. I get the

same euphoric feeling a bicyclist gets when riding

through countryside. The adrenaline rush of a roller

coaster ride. In the same way I become content, as if

finishing a good meal.

A pleasant experience, however does not have to be

achieved through the use of speeding. It can be found,

with patience, through enjoyment the sound of the engine

or the feeling of cruising along at a steady pace. If

people looked at their car in a different perspective,

perhaps they may enjoy moving along in their car a little

bit more.