Car As Raft
[>>>Midwest trip continued]
We said there warn't no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft. [Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Chapter 18]
What did we do on our car tour of the Mississippi and Great Lakes? Nothing. We just drove.
We catched fish and talked, and we took a swim now and then to keep off sleepiness. It was kind of solemn, drifting down the big, still river, laying on our backs, looking up at the stars, and we didn't ever feel like talking lour=d and it warn't often we laughed -- only a little kind of low chuckle. We had mighty good weather as a general thing, and nothing ever happened to us at all. [Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Chapter 12]
We drifted across the easygoing secondary roads of plains and rolling hills, steel-belted rubber against smooth asphalt on our silver raft, just the two of us, not bothering much with radio or music or prerecorded stories. We made our observations and wondered about all the corn. Just rolling along.
There is something about being in the car together for hours on end that strips us of our surface pretensions, that wear down our defenses. We're insulated from the outside world, but not from each other. We suddenly turn testy, oversensitive, annoying. There's no escape so the irritation gets talked through. We are the best thing we have; our home is wherever we are together; togetherness is our raft.
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