The Joy of Driving

Even as a child, being behind the steering wheel gave me a lot of unexplainable joy –be it my dad’s green Ambassador, or my own toy peddle car. When I started to drive, I ceased to believe it was just about transportation. My first car, a used Maruti, was more than just a car to me. While behind the wheel, I wanted to think I was not just driving, but becoming – becoming the car itself. Every time, I hit a pothole hard, I cursed myself. I tried hard to hear to the hum of the engine to understand how the car was feeling. My car’s health seemed no less important than my own.

I am in the US now, and my stay here has been joyful, attributed to the time I have spent behind the wheel. I am really happy to be in New England. You can see some of the best scenic byways here. The sheer joy of driving through winding roads, through mountains and valleys is second to none. Twisty hill climbs are followed by descents to open valleys. The wind plays music, the foliage play to the tune and the brook glitters in the tender sun. Your eyes fail to completely comprehend the resplendent scenery painted in front of it.

But then, there is a problem. My heart goes into a conflict of sorts. Should I tune into the heartbeat of the engine, or should I feel the wind in my hair? The thought of being perfectly between the road markers fights with the feeling of flying through the valley with lofty spirits. I am not sure if I need to play music in the car, or tune into the piston station. Perhaps, this conflict makes the drive more desirable. Perhaps.

Byways, is where I saw the real passion for the road - groups of riders in their thunderous cruisers, with no care of what was happening in the world beyond the road’s shoulders. I could relate their joy to the what Pirsig described in his profound masterpiece. I would be there, someday.

Well, my passion for driving still doesn’t make me a good driver. I am human, after all. So, this is where the flow experience comes to play - striking the right balance between the rules of the road, and roar of the engine. More miles, is what I need.

Displacement

Spring was coming to a close in New England; summer was knocking on the door. I was in my apartment looking outside the window. There were white fluffs, each as large as a palm of a hand, flying in the brisk wind. Seeds they were, in their millions. So dense was the air, that it appeared like a heavy snowfall.

For many plants and trees, dispersion of the seeds by means such has the wind is critical. Without this displacement from the parent, sprouting, and hence the continuation of life wouldn’t be possible.

“Displacement” was the thought that stuck on to my mind, that instant. As I thought, I realized that I was displaced myself - from the comforts of my hometown, my folks, my friends and my home. As much as it is painful to leave these behind, it is important to do so. It is displacement that makes you better, both in your career and your life. The further you put yourself away from the comfort zone, the better you would learn to adapt, and thrive.

Displacement was what I needed. Now that I have it, life beckons, again.