There’s this parking lot at the Provo Towne Center (yes, they really spelled it that way, and yes, it’s just a big shopping mall) where I like to go see movies. On the way to see a movie, if you come from the direction I come from, you have three choices for crossing that parking lot:
1) The inside track, where you really ought to slow the hell down for pedestrians you MANIAC.
2) The outside track, where you drive a good quarter mile out of the way of ANYTHING, and where the 15 mph speed limit is enforced by a broad, hairpin turn that I can take at about 40 if I’m pushing my luck.
3) The lawless route across the middle of the parking lot.
On the way back from a movie this evening (I went out to see the 10:20pm showing of Blade: Trinity. The grade: C-. Wait for the DVD, and then rent it with friends who can help you mock the movie) I decided to take route #3.
Cutting across an empty parking lot at 40mph at 12:20am is surreal. Especially when the lines are all about 45 degrees offset from your direction of travel. As I was crossing, it occurred to me that the adrenaline rush I was experiencing was due to the fact that I was crossing those lines a LOT.
See, as drivers we learn to stay inside the lines, and when we cross the lines we THINK about it first — unless we’re caught in a moment of carelessness, in which case we get adrenaline rushes from the realization that we slipped outside of our allocated stretch of road unconsciously. We spend our ENTIRE BEHIND-THE-WHEEL LIVES trying as hard as we can to stay inside those lines.
Crossing the parking lot forces me to check ALL angles of approach, because the lines can’t protect me. Not only is it POSSIBLE that a car could be coming the other way… it’s LIKELY that they could be coming the other way, and they CERTAINLY aren’t expecting ME to be zipping across their precious line-delimited lane. Hence the adrenaline.
And now, for the profound metaphor: our lives are like this. Mostly we try to stay inside the lines, where our expectations for others and their expectations for us are automatically managed. Sometimes, though, we have to change lanes. At other times (puberty, anyone?) we find ourselves on unpainted road. At still other times we cross entire parking lots. I’m not trying to encourage that kind of behavior, because although there’s growth to be found on all paths, there’s better ways to learn caution than by broadsiding someone in the parking lot.
End of metaphor.
13 thoughts on “What, haven’t I written enough for one night?”
but you need to drive across the lines to know they’re there. Mindlessly driving in the lines all your life gets you only to the safe places, which are seldom optimum.
but mindlessly driving across the lines is going to get you killed.
As with everything…moderation is the key.
Actually, if you consider automobile traffic in the United States, there are very, very FEW places you drive to that you couldn’t get to by staying in the lines (with the possible exception of some lane-changing).
That’s not to say that roads connect EVERYTHING — trying to extend this metaphor with a trip to the middle of a cornfield in rural Iowa would probably be unprofitable.
Life is the same way. The rules, guidelines, social norms, etc that exist in society pretty much have us covered regardless of where we want to go. Even the rebels have lines painted on most of the paths they choose.
Off roading anyone?
Best to keep your head mounted on a swivel when crossing the lines.
You never know who might be bearing down on you, or from where, or… Who might be watching.
Metaphors and concretes…
in a concrete sense, I once learned (Driving on twisty windy back roads) that the lines are there as guides, and if you take the road and any kind of speed, forcing yourself to stay inside the lines will get you killed. Inversely, staying inside the lines at a speed which keeps you safe will get you to your destination in a FAR longer amount of time. And will probably put you to sleep.
Metaphorically, that “inside the lines/safe/outside/risky” sensation of adrenaline translated immediately into a sense of liberation. kinda neat, actually.
And that sense of liberation, thrilling as it was, had a concomitant sense of fear and responsibility. Liberty is like that.
indeed. And, willing to accept that responsibility, I balk at those who seek to protect me from myself. *cough*…/me stops being self-righteous for a while…
Next week: Howard colors outside the lines. Stay tuned.
Oh, what a rebel ..
I took your advice and drove across the lines today. I died, thanks a lot.
I can understand driving like that in an empty lot, like you described, but here in the stupid frozen north it seems that it is acceptable to do that anytime. I frown upon it as I’m usually the one narrowly missed by the aimless drivers breaking the rules.
I’m sure there’s a road metaphor in there too, but I don’t care.
I know what you meen about the rush, but you should try the feeling when you are in the seat where the stearing wheel should be… With some maniac driving that third route! Oh you were driving 😀
I’ve noticed that myself, if not so well put. The driving-across-a-parking-lot, not the life metaphor. I like the metaphor, though! I definitely need to take more risks. I get too comfortable.
Comments are closed.