I spent a lot of my time travelling on the road, and I’ve come to think of driving as therapy. There is something about being on the highway that makes me feel calm. The roar of the engine noise, the hum of the tires, the click and beep of the seatbelt, the turn of the key the blur trees. Just focus on the road, no multitasking, no notification.
Just you, the road and the change of views every passing movement. The overtaking car that fades from my rearview mirror, just like a passing thought. Not holding on it and let it pass. The different views that appear by moving forward. Reminding you to glance but not stare, as long as you stay aware and not unnoticed. Mistakes, pain experiences, lessons, your stories. You own them, learn and grow. You drive forward with perspective. A version of you that you had outgrown. The rear mirror is more about the person looking into it. You notice the signpost every time you pass by. At least you know when turn make a U turn if you are heading to a wrong direction if you are driving too fast or confused. It is okay to change direction when you need to. A couples years ago, I had an accident driving at night, crashing to camouflage tires. I have learned that it is better to drive during daylight to have better visibility.
The Speed Limit of The Mind
Sometimes, especially when there is less car especially in the early morning, I like driving long stretches. My mind slows down. A place where my mind stops racing but to notice. You see, everyday life we cram our mind with noise, with half finished thoughts, ideas, work in progress, worries or feelings you don’t have time to name. But when you drive long stretches, it does something almost invisible. It slows you down. That’s why grief can surface without warning, memories appear like forgotten postcards, ideas for writing slip in quietly, like they have been waiting at the roadside for you to pass. When everything else feels uncertain, the road stays constant. The white paints on the lanes and light of the car front light, are the to guide you, you trust the process slowly even when you have no idea what’s the outcome.
Cruising with Patience
You are simply staying in your lane and with that one simple focus. Eyes ahead, attention of surroundings and hands on the wheel. The large space in between the cars creates space for thoughts and emotions that been ignored. You may feel you are not quite here or not quite there yet, or not the beginning, not the end. Just the middle. Not rushing to somewhere and not look for what’s the next. You are in between the two places, in a stretch of time that does not demand you to arrive or to leave, only to keep moving. No explanation, no expectation. Just like walking clears my head, driving in the highway are therapy in motion. It’s therapeutic.
Ever felt that we are so obsessed with finding what we love, happiness, love, a project, assignment, the next item, investment objective but only found ourselves looking for what’s next once we achieved them? I found myself in that situation before. I mentioned in some of my posts to live the present, but at the same time it is not easy to do that, not to think of the past and worry the future. In between spaces on the road reminds me that the middle matters too, no pressure to prove anything, no performance to maintain. The courageous act of doing things what we afraid of is good enough. You cannot control the traffic and the weather but flow with it. You cannot force the road to smooth itself out. There is no one comes to save you. You have to do it all yourself.
Driving in a highway is like playing chess, you cannot skip ahead, you have to stay present moving forward every mile. I have learned that rushing in a long journey will only shorten the time of arrival just to save a few minutes, and letting go of proving who is right or wrong on the road. It is not worth to risk safety and peace to justify that. Not everything requires reaction. On the road, like in chess, rushing rarely wins, you move one square at a time.
Music as a Co-Pilot
I have been sharing about the joy of walking mostly in my website. And when comes to long distance driving, I felt it gives me the rare kind of freedom. I can choose whether to respond or not. There is no one for me to explain on what I feel. I can play the same song in continuous loop and skip whatever I want. I get to control how loud of soft of the volume. Music becomes my co-pilot. Because listening to music was my main social media back then. It feels more relaxing than draining doomscrolling. When things get tough, when I cannot put my emotions into words or feel overwhelmed, I often had this because when I am excited or focus on something, I tend to take in a lot and forgetting the hours and other routine. I have this bad mindset of wanting everything I do to move at the same pace. But I remind myself, I don’t always need answers, I just need familiar sound that ignite this invisible strength, that rhythm to hold me, that seems to understand me, to help me push through.
Illusion of Time & Aging
Driving on the highway now and before feels different. Two hours can feel like forever. Long, heavy, dragging and then suddenly you have driven 55 minutes without noticing. It reminds me some years crawl, some vanish, and all of them change us. Driving teaches me time isn’t equal—it expands and contracts, like money when we spend it with awareness or waste it without noticing. Especially when you are a child, long drives feel endless. You keep looking for the exits and ask have you reach the destination. As you grow older, the same drives start to feel shorter, almost too short. You stop staring at the clock, you realise your back hurt at certain age more than you usually does, you stop more intervals for rest where you didn’t need to rest when you are younger. You start staring out the window instead, the sky, the people you are with or the thoughts that find you when you are alone. It shifts from impatience, boredom to something else. You want to escape but now as you age, this becomes a kind of gift. You don’t count the miles.
Shift in Perception
As children, some of us have the privilege to demand, to fulfil our ego. We want to do it our way. We have lesser tolerance with pain and avoid struggles. We are impatient and want the things right away. We want instant relief. As an adult, you learn to accept the slowness, the aches, the stops. You learn to forgive and let go. Because the more you resist, you realise nothing can be done but to accept and move on. You learn that forgiveness is not about rushing to destination. It is about easing the burden we carry, our thoughts, past actions and not choosing to let the road ahead be defined by what is behind us. You don’t erase the past but learn to live inside it. The rear mirror is a teacher of forgiveness, you glance to stay aware, to focus but not staring too long or you will crash. You learned that any accident you had, the wrong turn, the delay taught you to move forward without the weight of what is behind you.
The Road Ahead
Driving, for me, is no longer just about getting from one place to another. It has become a mirror of how I move through life. The highway teaches me patience, music teaches me resilience, time teaches me humility, and the rearview mirror teaches me forgiveness. And perhaps this what taught me, not speed, not certainty, not control, but the willingness to stay present for the journey. To know when to slow down, when to let go, when to turn back, and when to keep going.
The road doesn’t promise perfection. It promises movement. And as long as I am moving, noticing the signs, adjusting my pace, forgiving the detours, and embracing the silence between destinations, I am learning. That is why I love driving. It reminds me that life, like the road, is not about rushing to arrive, but about becoming while we travel.
