Our first car was a well-loved turquoise Mazda RX-7 in Boston. My husband and I were newly married, young, and stretching every dollar. The heater barely survived a New England winter and the car had more quirks than features, but it was ours, and it felt like freedom. Some of life’s greatest blessings do not arrive in perfect packages.
Before that there was my dad’s white Fiat, carrying us through the chaos of Bombay traffic and on road trips across India long before road tripping was trendy. That car holds my favorite childhood memories, all of us together, exploring the world one drive at a time.
When I drive now, I usually choose silence. Sometimes a lecture or the Quran, but more often just quiet, where I sort through my thoughts and plan what is ahead.
My favorite trip was moving from Massachusetts to Texas. We turned a relocation into an adventure, visiting old friends, exploring small towns, picnicking at overlooks. Although I once got so lost in thought that I missed my exit in Austin and did not notice until I reached San Antonio. My family has never let me forget it.
This is what driving on your terms looks like.