It’s funny to me: I hate driving, I love roadtrips. If I’m in a city, give me a bike. Give me a train. Give me the chance to watch the world roll by and listen to its machinery whir and click past underfoot. Give me the smell of motorcycles and coffee. Ice cream and apple trees.
But if we’re heading out of town, give me the wheel. I’ll hold on until the gravel-hum of the road numbs my fingers, hands, and arms. And we’ll eat pie and talk to strangers and take selfies in front of rotting no-vacancy signs.
It’s funny to me. I hate scores. I love to win. I hate math. I love the stars. It’s funny to me how good pancakes taste after we swim hours in the ocean.