One of my favorite sensations in the whole wide world:
I’m driving along the freeway by myself. I’m driving with purpose. I’m going somewhere. I drive a little too fast because I can. There are other cars on the freeway, too, and they’re like me. They look like children running through a playground. All the cars look happy. The wind is blowing through the open window and my sunglasses are perched on my nose. It’s morning. The air could be cool and crisp or unbearably hot. I drive and I drive and I drive. I’m young and I can do anything. I could do this forever.