Slowly, I’m becoming well-acquainted with long drives.
For several months now I’ve made the trek up I-71, the northeasterly vein that pumps traffic from my hometown of Wilmington to my home-away-from-hometown in Columbus, some 60 cornfield miles away. Almost three times a week I set out, most often in the late afternoon but sometimes before the sun is up, and push my car along. My sluggish but reliable Prizm shrieks and moans during the first few minutes of every trip, but then, like clockwork, it settles into the well-worn hum of 80,000+ miles and counting. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy these trips.
