Driving in Silence

It's scary.

You can hear all the weird noises your car makes, and you constantly think "What was that? Oh god I'm about to break down in the middle of the suburban countryside oh god."

You can hear all the leaves in the road skittering around and rustling when you go around curves, and everything just feels so fast, especially in the dark.

When you're sitting at stoplights, if there's anybody else around, you can sometimes hear their music, and it's just so weird because you feel like you're invading their privacy, even though you're doing the same thing you've always done and sitting innocently in your car in adjacent lanes. But then you start thinking (I was at the longest light ever ok) and you feel like they're listening to you too, even though you are sitting there in petrified silence. So then you wonder, what are they hearing (besides their loud music)? What are they thinking about?

And it's scary.

When you have the radio on, there's always some song you've sung along to with your friends or presidential ads you've analyzed in government class. There's commercials for concerts to go to, sales to take advantage of, charity events to contribute to. There's talk shows by the hosts that seem so familiar, even though if you think about it (which I didn't, until just tonight) you don't know them at all. You probably don't even know what they look like.

But once that radio is turned off, all of those connections are gone, and it's just you and your car and whatever is on your mind. When else do you get a chance to be completely alone like that? 

Your thoughts are so vivid and powerful when you drive in complete silence, in the dark, in an unfamiliar patch of woods in late fall. You realize the things that are most important to you, because you think of them first and dwell on them the longest; not because someone else bought them up or reminded you, but because you thought about them yourself.

Maybe knowing yourself is the scariest part.