Driving With My Dad

July 19, 2011
I can see the continuous unwinding road before me. Intimidating and mean, it questions my intentions, my whereabouts. Black tar stripped with white lines, it carries me to an unknown yet harmonious place. I look over to my dad as he's driving; he's smiling at one of my witty comments, the usual. With the windows down, the wind brushes up against my face with gentle force; I can feel its warmth. The luscious smell of the blooming flowers and the saturated scent of freshly fallen rain surprisingly greet my nose. I can taste the cooling sensations of spearmint; rehydration its sole purpose. His boisterous laugh, loud enough for the passersby to hear, infects me. I can almost hear it now.

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