I can’t wait to nestle into my car after a long, tiring day at work. The busy activities of the day often leave me hungry, tired and longing to be alone. The idea of crawling into the car for a long commute is not drudgery, but a welcome thought. The routine of commuting brings escape; the isolation in the car brings security. Books and papers are everywhere, yet I know where everything is. The contour of the driver’s seat fits my frame well after many years of driving. All of the knobs, buttons and controls are in their place, recognized tactually by their arrangement and frequent use. Often the interior is extremely messy, strewn with the remains of countless meals gobbled down in ferocious haste and with ravenous abandon, lacking any social grace or self-control.

The car is my portable womb on wheels, my airplane, my starship, my escape and refuge, my quiet respite, my oasis of thought, my zone, my galloping steed, and my dragon taking me “between”. It is my stealth bomber, my invincible shield, my tricycle, my mountain bike, my Harley, my shuttle craft, my UFO, my speed boat, my transporter beam, my space shuttle, my couch, my favorite easy chair, my rocker, and my magic carpet. It is my tree house, my clubhouse, my back porch, my fenced-in backyard, my personal space, my beam of light, my wave, my sailboat, my tall sailing ship, my Kontiki, my den, my private office, my study hall, my language lab, my practice room, my choir room, my concert hall, my stage, my conductor’s podium, my pulpit, my audience, my courtroom, and my shouting chamber. It is my cool shade on a sunny day, my sunny spot on a cold day and my umbrella on a rainy day. It is my meeting place, my bunker, my castle and my fortress of solitude. It is my monastery, my cloister, my church, my cathedral, my pew in the choir loft, my meditation space, my basilica, my chapel, my mosque, my prayer mat, my synagogue, my temple, my ashram and my Himalyan cave.