Some things change and break your heart. Other things change and make you smile.

Driving a car with the windows rolled down, listening to the music that makes you feel the most and singing your lungs out is one of the most spectacular things in the universe. Doing it in those fleeting days of true Spring where there’s still a cool Winterish breeze whispering under the eager shouts of Summer is absolutely a treat.

And for me, although the circumstances and the music have changed, the experience hasn’t gotten any less awesome.

When I was in high school, the car was a bright red 95 Eagle Talon, the music was John Mayer’s Room for Squares, and I was usually headed to a small town an hour away to visit my then-boyfriend.

Rule #1 in my High School Survival Book: Never date in-town.

Back then, John Mayer was purely likeable (pre-douche John, how I miss you so), and I was driving a very sexy car. I may not have been popular, and the car may have been a bank-repo, but I felt good in it, and the music seemed to sound even better coming out of its speakers. I had the school play to think about, was on my way to see the boy I “OMG am in looooooooove with!”, and had the road, the wind, and my thoughts all to myself. For that hour of driving I’d let my still-active imagination let me be cool and confident . . . someone who knew exactly what she wanted and was fully capable of obtaining it.

Sophomore year of college, the car was a white-and-rust ’88 Mercury Sable station wagon, the music was Minus the Bear, and I was either headed to play rehearsal or a ridiculous night of shenanigans with the friends who would become some of the most important people in the world to me.
You know those giggle fests that are pure, innocent, completely sober, and incredibly soul-filling? These ladies (you beauties know who you are) made my sophomore year of college one of the most influential years of my life. I learned that women cannot thrive on boyfriends alone.

At this point, the car is a ’96 Chrysler Concorde (that I own with my husband!) and the music could be just about anything from Feist to The Backyardigans.

And now I’ve got a back-up singer. He doesn’t sing very much . . . it’s mostly just a random “wahwahwah,” but I think he compliments my vocal stylings very well. He actually even likes it when I listen to my favorite old pop-punk albums, and I can’t tell you how happy thatmakes me.

When I look in the rear view mirror I can see pale hair getting whipped around in the wind, toes wiggling (because bare feet in a breeze are just fabulous), and the pure enjoyment of my sweet little driving buddy.

I may not be some carefree college girl driving around with memorized lines in her head anymore, but I’ve got the windows down and I’m still singing my lungs out . . . and I don’t think that’s ever going to change.

What’s your favorite thing about Spring?