Cars, cars, cars. I love cars. Even saying the word ‘cars’ sends a thrill up my spine unmatched by even the mightiest of roller coasters. How can you not instantly become excited when somebody mentions cars? They’re an incredible invention and have changed the way we live our lives. Sure, they’re a metal deathtrap as well, but I think the positives far outweigh the negatives. Every day I spend forty minutes driving to work. Back in the day, before cars existed, I would have had to ride a horse. That same journey would take me about forty minutes on horseback as well, seeing as there would be no traffic to deal with, but I wouldn’t have the comforts my car gives me. How would I listen to the radio or have air conditioning on a horse?
I’ve been thinking about how much I love cars lately, ever since I took my car to get a brake repair near Moorabbin. I just considered how if my brakes hadn’t worked properly, I’d probably have severely injured myself in a crash. But even if I knew that driving a car would be the end of me, I’d probably still do it. I don’t think I’d want to live without my long drives on the weekend or my relaxing commute to work, sitting on the Monash Freeway for thirty-minutes of the 15km drive.
This week I’m going to get car servicing close to Bentleigh so that my car can sit in the congested traffic even smoother. It’ll just be me, the road, and ten thousand other people trying to get to work. Nothing better than that, right? I don’t understand why other people dislike it. They complain about all the traffic on their commute, about how much longer it takes than it should, but I’m simply grateful for the time I get to spend in my car. It’s truly special. Maybe I should get a job further away, just so I can have more time on my drive.