I’ve been leasing cars for twenty years.
I lease a new one every three years.
I’ve been leasing silver SUVs for the last ten years.
I’m at an age where
I’m no longer interested in cars. Cars are objects.
That is, until three weeks ago.
I drove (my wife that is) drove one of those new four door sports coupes.
I had a new experience.
I rode on the passenger side.
I started having flash backs to a time thirty five years ago.
I drove a convertible 1982 Triumph TR8.
I drove it for three weeks.
I lived along the southern California coastline.
I drove that car two thousand miles along the coast.
I was also coming close to making a life altering decision.
I was married with five young children and a mortgage.
I was an educator in the field of religion.
I was secure, the work was meaningful.
I was progressing nicely up the chain of command.
I had recently received my doctorate degree.
I was mulling over the idea of leaving my profession.
I wanted to start my own management consulting firm.
Driving the coupe brought back all those moments.
The focal point was driving the TR 8.
I crossed an emotional divide
I developed a personal relationship with that new coupe
I love being in that car because
I loved driving the TR 8.
I loved that sports car, because it reminds me of my professional transition
That car ceased to be an object and I ceased to be a subject.
The coupe, the TR 8, the transition and I collapsed into one.
One of my little granddaughters reminds me of one of my daughters when she was young.
In turn my daughter reminds me of photos of my mother when she was a little girl.
It’s the same experience.
The past and present merge.
One hundred years of love rolled up in the flaxen hair of one little grandchild.
It feels like one with what surrounds you
The I disappears.
It’s like there is a place for someone like myself in the world.
Life makes sense.
There is no subject and object.
The I is lost
The I is swallowed up.