Neon Lights
It started simply, with a visit to the hospital. We were finally allowed to visit our friend who had been taken in and put on a legal hold after an incident. Her meds weren’t working properly and her depression had flared up. My roommate, Lauren and I crawled into her 2007 Volkswagen Passat. Biting the cold, we turned the seat warmers to their highest setting. Blasting the Hamilton soundtrack, we were on our way. As we drove through the dark, desolate streets towards the local hospital, a calm spread over me. There was just something about the music and emptiness of the streets. Lauren and I talked about our day as I watched the buildings flash by. We were going to confront a difficult thing. Sometimes silence says more than words.
Over the next few days, Lauren and I would climb into that car and head to the hospital. Each time we would blast music. Each time we would drive through the same empty streets to the giant, intimidating building. Walking through the hospital’s hallways, I couldn’t help but think how many people had taken a drive that night. Many of them visiting family and friends in much worse situations than us. After each visit, we would go back to the car and chat. I can’t say it was easy but that car brought a weird sense of comfort. Over the next few months, Lauren and I would make it a habit to climb into her car and go for a drive.
Eventually, our other roommate Erin joined in and it became our thing.
Over the next few months, we would spend hours at a time in that tiny car.
There was the time all three of us climbed into the car at 11:00 at night. We didn’t really have anywhere particular in mind. We just drove downtown and once we’d drifted down Virginia Street, we turned back around and did the loop again. Erin had her head out the window like a dog. We would have to yell at her to stop harassing police officers. Erin thought it would be funny to scream every time we passed a cop car. By the end of the night, we were left in stitches.
There was the time we all pulled up to McDonald’s and each bought milkshakes. Drinking them in the car, we drove through midtown talking about our views on feminism. On the way up the hill towards our shared apartment, we screamed out the lyrics to One Directions “Kiss You” and as we drove into the parking space, I didn’t want to leave.
There was the night we all left the apartment out of boredom and had ended up sitting on a curb eating ice cream.
The night that we explored downtown reading the inscriptions on what one of my friends would later refer to as some “old rocks.” Walking from inscription to inscription we learned about our city and the many men (and women) who had died to keep us free.
While these car rides usually only lasted an hour or so they felt like forever. That tiny box on wheels was like a savior and all of your worries somehow drifted away. That worry over the chemistry test on Monday was gone. The worry over that boy who took you out for coffee and then tried to get into your bed, gone. It was a sweet escape from the everyday.
All three of us created a safe zone within the walls of that car. We gave ourselves a moment to breathe, to feel young and free. There was just something about driving by those huge buildings, watching the city lights pass by. In that moment, we were able to clear our heads. There was something about the vast endless opportunity of our city that was comforting.
One night, we walked by the river and talked about all the changes coming to our city. We took selfies and laughed about everything and anything. There’s just something about the night. We sat and watched the river and listened to the sound of people in a nearby bar. Later that night, as we passed neon lights, drunkies, and slot machines, I was reminded of home. Of the trips, we would take to the Las Vegas Strip, of my friends and family. This was my first year away from home and the Reno lights brought a sense of comfort to me.
These outings, while small, brought a sort of clarity to the everyday. They reminded me that all my worries won’t be the end of my world. If I get an F on that test, I will survive. Yes, I had a report to finish but during these car rides that report didn’t exist. The car rides were a buffer at the end of a busy day.
I’m grateful for these car rides and the great friends I got to share them with. I know that one day when work gets to be too much, I’m going to grab my keys and go for a drive. I’m going to let the city streets carry me and all my worries drift away.
