A Lazy Afternoon for Tired Roadtrippers

Image Credit: Uhh... someone on Polanoid.net

So I've got this really romanticized and innocent idea about roadtrips.

I disregard the fact that after a certain amount of time spent in a confined space, people start to exude interesting scents that seep into the soft fabrics of cars. I metally gloss over the very human reaction to, after a while, be annoyed by the generally unannoying habits of others i.e. occasional throat clearing or off-tune humming.

Instead, I choose to focus on the [imagined] cinematics -- the small, tender moments; stretching out tightened muscles and yawning roadside; afternoon light filtering itself through the mud-speckled windshield in vintage tones; the soft hiss of a carefully selected mixtape; glancing into the rearview to point out an amusing chuch sign, and finding that your friend has quietly fallen asleep, long eyelashes resting on their soft cheeks.

Problem here is that I've never been on a roadtrip. Not since I was younger, anyway, and my parents did a marathon drive from Asheville, North Carolina to Disney World and then back into South-Eastern Ontario. I spent a lot of my childhood in cars and to this day I think I sleep better in a moving vehicle than in any bed.

ANYway, I was feeling roadtrippish this morning, so I indulged my licence-less self with a ten track playlist.

Here's the scenario: it's day five of a two-week long roadtrip. End location isn't important here. What is important is that it's a cloudless, summer mid-afternoon and everyone in the car has settled into a state of cozy lethargy. You've got the phantom taste of a mystery flavour red popsicle embedded in your cheeks and you've finally given up on keeping your dirty hair out of your eyes. It falls across your face as you feel the weighty pull of sleep.

Someone slips in a mixtape of low-key, vibish music that's lullabying you further away from conciousness. The road is a monotone drone beneath the car's wheels. The sun has warmed your headrest. And the afternoon slips on.

Left clicks, passengers.

Lorge by El Ten Eleven
Little Garçon by Born Ruffians
Pacific Theme by Broken Social Scene
Into the Stream by The Tallest Man on Earth
Born in the 70's by Ed Harcourt
Social Competence by Peter Morén
Black Out by Pavement
Libraries by Seabear
Oregon Girl by Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin
Poney Honey Money by CSS


Thanks for stopping by,
Alie