Coffee With Purps

Coffee Conversations with a Purple Girl

Spring Driving

I’m hiding in the bedroom today. I’m hiding because my chair is a favorite cat spot and one of our cats is blissfully unaware that she has a very poopy butt. We’re dealing with the poop problem, but in the mean time, she remains unaware and I don’t want to deal with poop more than I have to. I’ll deal with it after this, then I’ll go for a run, and then shower and that will give me at least an hour of safety from poopy cat butts.

Not the opening you were expecting, I’m sure. I only bring it up because it leads into the story from Monday, where it was a beautiful spring day and I had to do all the running around stuff. I did all the driving, spent a totally of maybe an hour and a half at home, just long enough to blog and clean up cat poop and change and leave again. And you know what I got to do while running all the errands? I rolled my windows down and cranked the music up and it was wonderful.

This is one of my favorite parts of spring, driving with the windows down. But it’s a limited time activity. When it’s 90 degrees outside it’s too hot for windows down, you want the AC that will cool you down quickly and efficiently, not more hot air blowing in your window. Likewise, if there is any need for heat at all, the windows will merely make you shiver. So spring and fall are windows down driving seasons, and I love them best.

It always reminds me of my dad’s old truck, I think. That’s a pretty broad statement, actually, he’s had quite a number of old trucks. This was specifically the dark blue one that he would take me to soccer practice in. Soccer was always in the fall and spring and I remember cool evenings riding home in that truck with the windows down and hanging my hand out the window so it could catch the air currents. I thought it was the coolest thing.

It’s better when you’re driving. Sometimes, if it’s nice and we’re driving on some back roads, I’ll ask my husband if we can put the windows down. It’s not quite the same from the passengers side anymore. Logan’s also not a huge fan of the windows down. I think it’s the noise. I get that. And I think that’s part of the reason I’m less inclined towards it when we’re together. Moments with my dad were almost always quiet moments, filled with comfortable silence. Moments with Logan, I want to chat with him, hear about his day and his thoughts and everything. I want to tell him all about my day and what I did and what I learned from my mom or Facebook. Windows down is a great solitary moment indulgence, for when words aren’t necessary.

When I’m driving, though, that’s when I love it best. I’m a music up kind of person. My husband tends the have the music down at a low level when we drive, background music. My brother is the same way. My sister and I, however, are music up kind of people. We turn the music up by default and drive around singing with our favorite songs as loud as we can. Windows down driving is great for this because you can turn up the music even more. There is something so freeing about driving around winding back roads with the wind blowing your hair and the music blasting. It’s a wonderful feeling, something you only get driving by yourself. It also requires reasonably low speeds. Not necessarily 25 or 35, but definitely below 60. When you get up there the wind becomes overbearing instead of refreshing. It’s a delicate balance.

So I drove around on Monday, enjoying the spring weather with windows down. It wasn’t quite the same. I was driving around Monroeville and then over to pick up Logan so not so much back roads, not so much solitude, but still, I’ll take what I can get. Today I might try to walk down to a park near-by. It’s only a wee little part, about a mile away, according to my walking directions. I can also get to a library, but that one is at the bottom of a giant hill and I’m not sure how much I want to walk back up it. We shall see. But, with the situation inside today, I think it might be an outdoor kind of day. I hope you have a lovely, less poop filled day, my friends.

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