Charm swathed in strange
I drove home to Gainesville this weekend. I would have pictures but when I took out my camera's battery to charge, I forgot to replace it when I left Atlanta. Classic. So this entry is just one big wall of text. I'm sure you'll deal with it.
The trip down I-75 was relatively uneventful; traffic was nearly nonexistent due to the holiday. But then I passed Macon and out of nowhere, I realized I was driving side-by-side with a black Toyota Tacoma. At first I thought nothing of it, but after awhile I noticed that we were still driving parallel. It was a three-lane stretch of highway and we were in the left two. It makes sense assuming that we're both using cruise control and just happen to have selected the same speed. But that doesn't explain how we ended up like that to begin with.
We continued toward Florida like that until the highway narrowed to two lanes. Amazingly, our concert of automobiles was undisturbed by other traffic, namely because there was so little. I looked over at one point just to check if I knew the driver and he/she was madly beckoning in my direction, or if it looked like an ax murderer. None of the above, the occupant looked like some normal guy, the kind you wouldn't even notice when walking down the street. I thought we would've split up at that point, because driving side-by-side would mean no cars could pass us. I was right; we ended up driving front-to-back, as if one of us was following the other. And this alternated depending on if there was slow car in the left lane; the car behind would pull ahead and pass first, followed by the next one. I spent so much time behind this guy that I memorized his license plate numbers (Tennessee plates, by the way).
Crazy right? Eventually this system of driving seemed like second nature. We reached the part of Georgia where I-75 starts to expand and contract rapidly due to the amount of road work being done. Three lanes would become two, and then three, and then two again. What did we do? We stayed parallel, and the one in the middle lane would anticipate the road merge and shift into the right lane.
I know, I know. Sounds a little gay. And I have no comeback.
Around Valdosta, cars began pouring onto the road, and alas, we got separated. I slipped into "Florida-driving" mode and immediately started weaving in and out of traffic. My driving buddy opted to drive defensively and lagged behind. By the time I had crossed the border into Florida, there were no cars once again. It was a little sad, believe it or not. I had spent the majority of my 5+ hour trip with a companion of sorts, and now I had none. The hour from the border to Gainesville seemed longer than the previous four.
I was about ten miles from my exit, and it was about 8:30pm. It was near dusk, and the sunset was brilliant. I was (remarkably) still feeling a little down about my lonesome driving. Then all of a sudden, bursting forth from down the road came the black Tacoma. And while we didn't end up driving parallel to each other again, he maintained a three car-length distance behind me, one lane over. And then before long, I pulled off the interstate as he continued on his journey deeper into Florida.
As I lose sight of him, I think to myself, "Mr. Black Toyota Tacoma from Tennessee, thanks for keeping me company."
Say what you will about my experience. It was serendipity; it was kismet; it was an affirmation of the human condition.
Staying with my parents was what it usually is. Lots of good food, lots of stagnant boredom.
I met up with Andrea on Saturday night to go have dinner and play catch-up. Bitch has her own apartment finally! Hallelujah for cutting the cord. She feels the same way, more or less. We went to Harry's, which was as delicious as I remember it being. (Note to self, by the way: you are so predictable.)
And then before I knew it, it was time to come back to Atlanta. I didn't meet as many people as I would have liked to. Apparently Belle lives here now, and Jenn came through the city at some point. Didn't find out till yesterday.
I guess that's life.
The trip down I-75 was relatively uneventful; traffic was nearly nonexistent due to the holiday. But then I passed Macon and out of nowhere, I realized I was driving side-by-side with a black Toyota Tacoma. At first I thought nothing of it, but after awhile I noticed that we were still driving parallel. It was a three-lane stretch of highway and we were in the left two. It makes sense assuming that we're both using cruise control and just happen to have selected the same speed. But that doesn't explain how we ended up like that to begin with.
We continued toward Florida like that until the highway narrowed to two lanes. Amazingly, our concert of automobiles was undisturbed by other traffic, namely because there was so little. I looked over at one point just to check if I knew the driver and he/she was madly beckoning in my direction, or if it looked like an ax murderer. None of the above, the occupant looked like some normal guy, the kind you wouldn't even notice when walking down the street. I thought we would've split up at that point, because driving side-by-side would mean no cars could pass us. I was right; we ended up driving front-to-back, as if one of us was following the other. And this alternated depending on if there was slow car in the left lane; the car behind would pull ahead and pass first, followed by the next one. I spent so much time behind this guy that I memorized his license plate numbers (Tennessee plates, by the way).
Crazy right? Eventually this system of driving seemed like second nature. We reached the part of Georgia where I-75 starts to expand and contract rapidly due to the amount of road work being done. Three lanes would become two, and then three, and then two again. What did we do? We stayed parallel, and the one in the middle lane would anticipate the road merge and shift into the right lane.
I know, I know. Sounds a little gay. And I have no comeback.
Around Valdosta, cars began pouring onto the road, and alas, we got separated. I slipped into "Florida-driving" mode and immediately started weaving in and out of traffic. My driving buddy opted to drive defensively and lagged behind. By the time I had crossed the border into Florida, there were no cars once again. It was a little sad, believe it or not. I had spent the majority of my 5+ hour trip with a companion of sorts, and now I had none. The hour from the border to Gainesville seemed longer than the previous four.
I was about ten miles from my exit, and it was about 8:30pm. It was near dusk, and the sunset was brilliant. I was (remarkably) still feeling a little down about my lonesome driving. Then all of a sudden, bursting forth from down the road came the black Tacoma. And while we didn't end up driving parallel to each other again, he maintained a three car-length distance behind me, one lane over. And then before long, I pulled off the interstate as he continued on his journey deeper into Florida.
As I lose sight of him, I think to myself, "Mr. Black Toyota Tacoma from Tennessee, thanks for keeping me company."
Say what you will about my experience. It was serendipity; it was kismet; it was an affirmation of the human condition.
Staying with my parents was what it usually is. Lots of good food, lots of stagnant boredom.
I met up with Andrea on Saturday night to go have dinner and play catch-up. Bitch has her own apartment finally! Hallelujah for cutting the cord. She feels the same way, more or less. We went to Harry's, which was as delicious as I remember it being. (Note to self, by the way: you are so predictable.)
And then before I knew it, it was time to come back to Atlanta. I didn't meet as many people as I would have liked to. Apparently Belle lives here now, and Jenn came through the city at some point. Didn't find out till yesterday.
I guess that's life.
posted by Nate @ 7:24 PM
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