The Magic of the Passenger Seat

I'm 25 years old, but I still sit in the passenger seat. When will I get my driver's licence, they ask. I answer, why should I, when sitting behind the wheel would take the magic away? Instead of dreaming about where this road that I have travelled so many times before leads, I would have to concentrate on the road itself and remember which of the numerous regulations I had to learn applies here. Sitting behind the wheel doesn't mean freedom of going wherever I want. It means to be locked into a set of rules. Not to mention the responsibility over everyone's lives in the car.

No, I will sit in the passenger seat. I will stare out into the landscape and dream of entirely different worlds. The familiar fields and occasional houses will blur and be transformed into a base canvas for my stories. I will add characters I have known for a long time or make up new ones which I will never think of again. Time and road will morph into an infinite space of imagination, which allows me to go on adventures that are entirely my own and will never be known to anyone besides me. I might find a secret gathering of animals in the forest. Deer, bears, rabbits and birds in animated discussion. I might find two people in the vast flower fields in the setting sun, a couple reunited. Or I might find a race among the fish in the river that flows parallel to the road.

Yes, I will sit in the passenger seat. I will sit and dream and fall asleep. Sleeping in the car is like magic. One moment I follow a luminous deer that hops from pole to pole and then the next I suddenly drift in and out of sleep, having half-dreams in various states of consciousness. I see visions of altered realities, scenarios that I have lived through, but altered, changed. Sometimes they are more vivid, more fun, simply better. And sometimes they are uncanny, mysterious, scary even. I would have one of those dreams, a series of events that take place in school. Some are memories, some are made up. A scolding by the teacher, a fight with a friend, then suddenly my mother laughs, and I'm back in the car. But then back again in school. It's on fire and we are all celebrating. I open my eyes and register us parking at a rest stop. School again. This time it's haunted by ghosts. My neck hurts. I should have brought the pillow. But that would have been an act of responsibility, of thinking ahead. Only adults do that.

So, I will sit in the passenger seat. I will sit and sleep and strain my neck. I will ignore my family and relax in their presence, knowing that I don't have to take the wheel. It is the most freedom I have ever felt. There are hours ahead of us on the road, and I have all the right to do whatever I like. I can play games on my Nintendo, draw sheep on an A4 and listen to music with wired headphones that barely work. I can stare out into the changing environment and I can fall asleep without worrying about what happens when we arrive.

So, I will sit in the passenger seat. I will endure as long as I can and then surrender to the lullaby of the buzzing engine. I will sleep until the driver parks the car, and I will not get up unless I'm forced to. That makes me wonder. When was the last time my father carried me out of the car and into bed? One moment I'm in the car and then the next I would wake up with unbrushed teeth and only a vague memory of my father's arms around me. One time was the last time. I never knew that it was the last. Did it mark my reaching adolescence? Did it mark my autonomy? Now, I have to fight myself out of my dreams and get myself out of the car.

So, I will sit in the passenger seat, but what if there is no one to drive me? Then I will take the bus and sit in the passenger seat. I will read and study and watch Netflix. I will bring the pillow to not lean against the dirty window, and I will set an alarm that wakes me up when I arrive. I will stare out of the window and discover new lands. They are wilder sometimes, more beautiful and diverse, but they are lacking something. I do not know the other passengers. I do not know the driver. I miss my mother and father, any acquaintance who knows how to drive. I want to trust them unconsciously and relax next to them while they sit in the driver's seat.

So, I will sit in the passenger seat, but what if someone else wants to sit there, too? What if that someone is a mini version of myself? What if mini-me wants to stare and play and dream, just like I did? Should we take the bus then and sit together in the passenger seat? What if mini-me wants to fall asleep and be carried into bed? Do I say sorry, but mummy is just like you. Mummy doesn't know how to sit in the driver's seat.

One day, I shouldn't sit in the passenger seat. One day, I should sit in the driver's seat. So mini-me can lose itself in the landscape and create new worlds. So mini-me can experience the various states of consciousness and the crazy, scary, funny half-dreams. I will have to ignore the adventures calling for me in the distant landscapes, and I will have to imprison myself in the rules, eyes never leaving the road directly ahead of me. I will occasionally glance over to the side and see mini-me staring out of the window, eyes lost in distant countries. And I will tell mini-me, that I too, long ago, enjoyed the magic of the passenger seat.