In my car

Something comes over me every time I get in, with my hands on the wheel and my eyes straight ahead. An impulse to just take the next wrong turn, hit north on the highway until it stops a few miles before Wakefield, then take the first road west to where I've never been. Find a quiet town and stop my car, get off and take a walk down the main street there as the last rays of sunshine run through the leaves and branches.
I'd walk into the local bar and everything would go quiet, not many strangers come around here and it sure isn't the tourist season. But I'd sit at the counter and order a drink, probably start chatting to a few regulars, three or four names in my pocket by the time last orders are called. I'd find out Jim at the convenience store is looking for someone, or maybe Francine at the old Moore's farm, her old man can't put up with all the work anymore. She speaks French too, she'd be glad to trade a few words with me.
I wouldn't need much more than that, easy for me to drop my bags and leave the rest behind. Forget about before, well, most of it anyway. Forget about deadlines, fast food and traffic jams, the rushing and racing, just take with me the love, friendship and good times, the rest doesn't matter.
Life would be rough, unsophisticated and slow, but life would be good. Every now and then an old friend would come by and stay for while, whenever the world would let them. We're only 26 and already we seem not to have much time for us all, just wait till everybody gets settled... But we'd have that, a few days or weeks for us to pretend we're kings and queens again, a chance to enjoy life without a clock, just like when we were kids. And when they'd leave they'd be refreshed and rested, but still they wouldn't quite get it, why on earth would I stay here, so far away from everything? Me, I'd just smile and watch them go, holding my girl in one arm, praying whatever local god to bring them back sooner next time - but hey, why would a god give me anything? Later we'd fall asleep to our favourite film, an old rerun or halfway through the chapter of a book.

This goes through my head every time I get in the car. So far I've always turned south onto the highway, but as each day goes by the pull gets that much stronger, to carry on straight over the bridge, or miss the exit on the way back home. I wasn't driving today, but still I could feel it, and I started wondering, who of you would understand, who of you would drop their heads, and who of you would smile and nod. Not that I'm looking for answers, mind you.

That's what happens in my car.