Comments on: Stillness at 75 mph http://www.peevishmama.com/?p=2308 picante y sabrosa Sat, 09 Nov 2024 19:09:21 -0800 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.4 hourly 1 By: Neil http://www.peevishmama.com/?p=2308&cpage=1#comment-655166 Neil Sun, 27 Jul 2014 12:57:56 +0000 http://www.peevishmama.com/?p=2308#comment-655166 <strong><a href="http://google.com/?p=36&lol= forestall@mere.rampart" rel="nofollow">.</a>...</strong> thank you!... forestall@mere.rampart” rel=”nofollow”>.…

thank you!…

]]> By: Flan http://www.peevishmama.com/?p=2308&cpage=1#comment-1095 Flan Thu, 04 Mar 2010 22:15:52 +0000 http://www.peevishmama.com/?p=2308#comment-1095 Over the years I've come to cherish time alone in the car above all else. I, too, rolled back and forth from Notre Dame to home (Columbus, Ohio). Smashed-flat farm roads, one or two-light towns, and checkerboards of fields where the air rushed to meet you, dusty, yet sweet and alive. And more than the mood of your music, the murmur of the tires, you feel the expectation. The flowering idea of where you are going and just how good it can be. You can almost convince yourself you're part of some lost allegory. These days I find myself bending over maps or clicking around the computer to ferret out the longest, where-the-fuck way from point A to point B. On the northern end of Sonoma County, we've got a getaway, a place of stillness I happily claim for myself once every two or so weeks. At least half of what I take from these sojourns happens on the road, on the way to and from, when I'm out on the edge of being lost, talking to myself aloud like a maniac, and working over all the wrinkles of my life. Over the years I’ve come to cherish time alone in the car above all else. I, too, rolled back and forth from Notre Dame to home (Columbus, Ohio). Smashed-flat farm roads, one or two-light towns, and checkerboards of fields where the air rushed to meet you, dusty, yet sweet and alive. And more than the mood of your music, the murmur of the tires, you feel the expectation. The flowering idea of where you are going and just how good it can be. You can almost convince yourself you’re part of some lost allegory.

These days I find myself bending over maps or clicking around the computer to ferret out the longest, where-the-fuck way from point A to point B. On the northern end of Sonoma County, we’ve got a getaway, a place of stillness I happily claim for myself once every two or so weeks. At least half of what I take from these sojourns happens on the road, on the way to and from, when I’m out on the edge of being lost, talking to myself aloud like a maniac, and working over all the wrinkles of my life.

]]>