The Story
Column: Life is a Highway
Last semester I took William and Mary’s “Introduction to Philosophy”, better known to most of us as “GER 7.” I really enjoyed most (some) of the readings for the class, and because I passed it, I am now, of course, a bona fide and un-arguable expert on the subject of philosophy as well as life in general. (Especially when one considers that I wrote almost an entire essay on the final using tennis analogies…I hope that you are suitably amazed and astounded by this.) Anyway, I would now like to release to you my new somewhat deep thought: driving is a metaphor for life.
Think about the good sides of driving. On a gorgeous day like Monday was, you climb into your car (gas-guzzling though it may be), put down the window and turn up the Dave. Yes, your hair is blowing in the wind. Yes, life is good. Yes, you look hot in this car. Yes, you are William and Mary Barbie driving Barbie’s Dream Jeep…You may get so caught up in your own car-Barbie hotness that you find yourself singing Kenny Chesney way too loudly at a stop sign while several people turn to look at you funny. (At this point, the best course of action is to give your most winning smile, the one that says, “Yep, I’m a dumb blonde, but I sure am happy. And maybe kind of cute at that.”)
Then there are the sad sides to owning a vehicle on this campus, such as the “Dude, Where’s My Car?” phenomenon that occurs whenever you need to find your car at the Hall. Or, the fact that, even if you are lucky enough to know the vicinity you parked in, lately it’s most likely that you’ve been walking to it in 12 degree weather or rain, clutching your key in icy little hands, pink and shaking from the cold.
Perhaps you think “I bet if I went to a private school…I could have a parking spot closer to where I live.” (Just for general information: I thought that until last weekend, when I visited my friend at her private school. Don’t feel cheated: they are just as screwed as we are. They just have nicer cars to hike out to.)
Aside from the Hall’s parking lot, there is always the lot behind the Cheese Shop in CW…nothing like circling that place a few times to make you want to put an end to tourism…or the tourists themselves…or to their cars. It’s enough to make you hate life. (Maybe now is the time to admit that at times I suffer from road rage. My friends think it is “funny.” Whether that means “ha ha” funny or “shoot, you are crazy” funny I have yet to find out.)
Regardless of the various heavens and hells of driving conditions, there is always the glory of putting in an old mix CD or even an old mix tape (hopefully there are people out there besides me who still possess those.) If you choose one from high school, I almost guarantee you that you will listen to it again and love it just as much as you used to, if not more. You will think to yourself, “Self, you have such a stellar taste in music. How smart you were to be listening to Indigo Girls and Pat McGee at such a young age. This is only a further indication of your own genius.”
So there you have it, my friends, my new philosophic deep thought. If the driving is good, life is good. If the driving is bad (and by driving, I mean parking. Or just slow driving, like trying to turn from Campus Drive onto to Jamestown…for the love…makes me want to cry), life is bad. But, in either situation, never fail to recognize the ability of a great mix tape.