I am chillin' in my car, windows down, music up. This is where it all happens. Everything comes to life and out in the open. All my thoughts are transformed into action. The honking of other horns or men whistling at me doesn't even faze me. I stay in a deep and thoughtful trance. I might as well be floating or skating, for the ride I take is effortless, yet so much thought is used, not on the actual drive, but other things, like what to wear the next day, why this girl is talking about me. You know, the important things.

This ride, whether long or short, creates a specific time for me. Even when I have someone else with me, I can think about what they say or just dream my own dreams. I can look at everything, and I see my own special touches in the car: the pink beanie from yearbook camp on the back of my seat, the black Laker's hat on the dashboard from an ex-boyfriend, the stuffed bat that sits by the window to catch the breeze.

Everything has its own place, and its own reason for being in my sanctuary. I look to those things for inspiration and even for a pinch of reality. I can recall riding down the highway, going a little faster than I should. I didn't really know where I was going, but at the time I was extremely stressed out. I decided to drive, drive and see the sights, drive and understand things, but most of all, just drive. During that ride my life flashed before me and gave me so much insight on what I needed to accomplish.

It was at that moment that ridin' in my Civic was the best thing for me. This place is the ultimate haven for my thoughts, pressures and attitudes. Who would have thought it was just my car. Me, just ridin' in my 1990 Sonoma Red Pearl Honda Civic.