To kickstart our semester on posthumanism, professor Sarah Weiger asked ENG 403 students to consider something not human that both impacts our lives and identities.
Some people said computers, others said cooking utensils. I initially thought of books, but this was an English class after all, where everyone likes to read. However, as I analyzed my day-to-day, the one thing I spend my mornings and afternoons with most became obvious: my car.
Researchers call time spent during a commute liminal space, and it’s the transition from work to home that provides me with psychological detachment and restoration. It’s the bridge between school and play, allowing my mind to switch gears.
While some days the drive can feel vast and never ending, I try to remind myself that the uninterrupted time is a privilege, an opportunity to be present in the world around me.
I grew up forty minutes south of UP, in the suburbs where my mom and I still reside. My car carries me to and from campus each day — approximately 80 minutes round trip of uninterrupted leisure. And I love it.
Now, I know what you may be thinking: That’s a long time to be stuck in a car everyday, and you’re right, it is. But it’s also time to be removed from academic responsibilities, a lapse in the day dedicated to me, my Volkswagen GTI and the road ahead.
I can listen to audiobooks, podcasts about art history or the news and interviews of my favorite authors. I can blast ‘70s rock with the windows down or call my dad. I can even talk into my Voice Memos app; and in fact, I “wrote” this piece into my notes while cruising the freeway alongside the Willamette River and the downtown cityscape on my way home from campus.
My commute is not free time per se. I’m still unequivocally focused on driving, aware of neighboring vehicles and traffic lights. But when driving 60 mph down I-5 South, I can’t be worried about upcoming assignments or the notifications on my phone.
I am only focused on the events ahead of me, present in the seasons around me as cherry blossoms emerge and autumn leaves fall. As the windshield wipers mop, rain drops away or I pull my visor down to block an evening sunset, the world is here, and I am in it, moving through space and time from the driver’s seat of my car.
So, this is a love letter to my little VW that takes me to and fro. I’ve learned to revere this time spent on the road, and you should too. Whether your commute is 15 minutes or 50, whether it’s by car, bike or foot, take the time to glance up every once in a while. Go the scenic route home, breathe fresh air and just be — before the world requires you again.
Kaylee Monahan is a reporter for The Beacon. She can be reached at monahan26@up.edu.
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