
A car could be a sacred space, a place of freedom. A car could be a cage, a prison of my own making. A car was often my tool for escape — to move, to leave, but sometimes it was a place I was frozen, indecisive and afraid. A car was sometimes a place for sex and sometimes even love. My car was a place for my tears — a glass and metal box that left me feeling hidden while at once completely exposed. My car was place to feel powerful and in control but also a place to feel weak and vulnerable.