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The story speaks for itself.

“Blair, someday, we’re going to race – and I call your car.” Mitch called out to me with his boyish smile.

“Oh, really? I’d like to see that one.”

We had just finished packing up equipment after one of our jazz gigs. We left through the band room doors, and ran to my car. Knowing that I would surely lose this contest of endurance, Mitch had undoubtedly beaten me, and I came to my next realization - I had left my car door unlocked.

He had jumped inside, and instantly began turning the wheel of my white coated, beige top, Mustang convertible, as if he were a competitor in a NASCAR race. Reluctantly, I handed him the keys, and sat in the passenger’s seat. Never before have I let someone drive my car. It was a matter of trust, I let all worries and agitations fade away from me - after all, I have known him for six years, and he is more or less a brother to me.

After making the necessary stop at 7-11 for slurpees, we got back in the car, put the top down, and chose select “highway driving” music, consisting mostly of Led Zeppelin tunes, such as “The Ocean” and “Four Sticks”, Rush’s intricate “YYZ”, and other classic rock tunes. With everything in preparation, we cranked up the volume, and embarked on a sleek car ride on a perfect May afternoon.

We began our car ride in the main part of town, waving to anyone we saw, and every five minutes or so, Mitch would turn his head with a huge grin on his face and say to me, “Blair, you are so lucky.” Together we chose which path we might take, a left turn here, a right, left, no! Turn here! Our spontaneous sense of directions eventually led us to be far out of town and in the country. On straight roads we would slightly speed up, enjoying the inviting breeze to flow through our hair. We would take any road that appealed to us, dirt or paved, it didn’t matter to us. This car ride was special, and would be treated as an adventure.

“What I like most about this, Blair, is you can take rides out like this. You can put the top down, and look up at the sky. It’s perfect – sunny, brilliantly blue, and just the right amount of clouds too.”

I took a moment to think of his words, my gaze fixed upon the sky. He certainly wasn’t wrong in his statement, today, was a beautiful day.

“Do you ever take drives like this often?” He asked me. “Yes, I especially enjoy taking car drives in the rain like we’ve been having. The raindrops falling softly against the windshield, it seems so rhythmic to me; it really puts me at ease. But of course I don’t take those sort of drives with the top down,” I joked. The effects of the winter’s harsh snow had become something radiant. All around us we were surrounded by fields of green, an ocean of our own that went on endlessly for miles.

“How would you describe this, Blair?”

I took a moment to think it over.

“Spacious.”

“Yes! Exactly,” he said, giving me a wink, while pointing at me as if I had chosen the correct answer.

We eventually drove on the interstate and began to head home. With the top down and the high speeds, the wind caused my hair to whip harshly across my face. That didn’t matter. Instead, I stared at Mitch’s figure and began to reminisce. He had been my training partner in the martial arts since the age of twelve. During the quickly spent years, I’ve always considered him as my younger brother. Many times we have spent arguing like real siblings are known to do from time to time, however, that day I realized that he had taken on the role of the older sibling by teaching me a lesson. It doesn’t matter if one lives in a small town like Fort Morgan, or a large city like that of Denver. No matter the place, one may look and find beauty. Those moments of clarity – are what make everything worth while.



© Blair Greenwood, 2007