loveliness of the long-distance driver

My drive to work is 50 minutes, one way. My commute in Belfast was 50 minutes also, 40 minutes when the wind and traffic were just right. Here it's 50 minutes, day in and day out. My personal best is 47 minutes, and another carpooler broke the 45-minute mark, I think, but that was just reckless.

I mention the 50-minute commute because I had railed against it before I moved here, figuring that I were going to drive a long way to work, I might as well live downtown.

The big difference, though, is that the interstate commute would not be refreshingly beautiful. I have a lovely drive through the country, the worst "traffic" is getting stuck behind a school bus, and I meander zoom through little towns and along horses in pastures.

I also see some of the most hilarious things and I wish I could take a picture safely from behind the wheel. Some of these I will stop and shoot in the coming weeks but today's I fear was a fleeting moment in time:

On the drive home I passed a country house with a large porch. That's where the teenager sat, t-shirt and madras shorts, full drum kit, pounding away. Awesome, dude!