But, when you’re standing on the side of it watching it take so many other people to where they want to be, it’s stubborn. It’s mean. It’s a clique you’re not a part of. Stone cold faces rush by, one after another, occasionally whipping their necks around to have a look at the strange phantoms on the side of the road.
The vehicles take on personas of their own. Some pass by smugly, acrimoniously. “Look at what you can’t have” they seem to sneer as they pass. Some are oblivious. Some are nosey.
More than ever, we yearned for the canoe. Sure, it was slow and exhausting. We could look back at remember the days the wind was so strong, we barely moved (or, if we let up for even a split second, we moved backwards). But it was a method of transportation and it was ours.
Lucky for us, some vehicles are kind.