We are vehicular!
Yes, gentle readers, my intended and I are once again owners of four-wheeled motorized transport and boy, does it feel good.
Owning a car feels, to me, like the essence of being an American. It’s something about having a little walled-off space that’s all your own — very different from being on the subway, or even on a motorcycle. We are a nation of delineations: state lines, suburban fences. In other countries you get the commons, or public right-of-way across private land; here we have our own personal homesteads and the right to shoot you if you come in uninvited. For better or for worse, to be American is to take a wall seriously.
So it seems appropriate that we’re planning to take this car on a tour of these United States for our honeymoon. Our own car, the open road, off to discover America…it’s mythic. Epic. Perfect.
(Of course, Jacob and Lisa will be mountain climbing in Nepal on their honeymoon, which is just slightly more epic, maybe, but never mind. Route 66, baby! Give me a heart-shaped vibrating bed and a dinosaur statue made from cheese and I am a happy woman.)