Flying in a Car

"We'll have to take my car. I have a hatchback, so we'll be able to fit the cello." I said, as I pulled out my keys and headed toward the old, red Nissan parked a few cars away. "And I just got my car stereo installed today! C'mon!"

My two roommates, Laura and Lindsey, and their friend, Brittney (the cellist) followed me to my car. It took some tricky manipulating and rearranging to fit the cello and violin in the back, along with the yoga mat, toolbox, and orange construction cone that were already back there, but we made it all fit. As I slammed the trunk door shut, I wisely proclaimed, "Life is just full of puzzles... and this one has just been solved. Fitting the cello in the trunk--done!"

Laur and Lindz crawled into the back seat through the door on the right, because the one on the left doesn't open from the outside, and Brittney sat in the front seat. I handed her my ukulele and my purse, and I plopped into the driver's seat, inserted the keys, turned, revved, plugged in my ipod, selected Owl City--"Fireflies"--and felt the rumble of my wonderful speakers come to life! It was so invigorating. Shifting into reverse, I zoomed out of the parking lot and locked in my coordinates. We were on a direct course to Wellsville.

The girls were excitedly talking about the ward talent show and singing to the music, as the wind from the open windows swirled their hair around their faces, because my car doesn't have air conditioning. Shifting gears up and down, turning, stopping, flying onward, I steered towards Main Street. Once we got out of town and on the highway, Laura piped up, "Hey guys! Everyone stick your arm out your window, and let's fly!"

That sounded great to all of us. We each extended an arm out our corresponding windows and took off.

"Up! Down! Up! Down! Up! Down!" Laura yelled in a steady rhythm, and we lifted and dropped our arms, like wings, in perfect unison. I accelerated slightly, and the beat of the music followed Laura's commanding instructions, pulsing precisely with the wings flapping out the windows. I swear the wheels lifted off the pavement. The cool, outside air rushed around my fingers, up my extended arm, inside my shirt-sleeve, and curved around my shoulders. My hair was crazy everywhere, and my teeth were dry, because I was smiling. If I hadn't been driving, I would have closed my eyes and imagined myself cruising in my car along the Milky Way, flying past stars and planets, a solar wind fiercely combing my hair with stardust.

Then we came to the Wellsville exit.

"Ready... BANK RIGHT!" Laura instructed, and like a precision jet-fighter, we performed the maneuver. The arms on the left raised, the arms on the right dropped, and the red Nissan floated on its wings to the right, soaring off in a new direction. We laughed at the awesomeness.

After a few more turns, a few more songs, and a stop sign or two, we landed comfortably in the parking lot of the Wellsville Tabernacle. The wings disappeared. The wheels settled heavily onto the blacktop. Our hair, frizzy and disheveled, lay dead and motionless on our heads. I coasted to a standstill in the first available parking spot and turned off the ignition. The growl from the engine and the reverberating music from the speakers died.

I yanked the key out, opened my door, and swung one leg out. But before I got out of my car, I turned back, and said, "Great flight, ladies."