Driving: Thoughts
Road Trips - Drake (2026)
Believe you me, my friends—believe you me. As angry as you are with me? I’m 10x angrier than that. 10x angrier than even you might be with me, that’s what I am. Because I am honestly so angry with myself. I missed our beloved Friday at noon deadline, knowingly, because I was undertaking a perilous, Sorcerer (1971)-like journey from Ann Arbor to Syracuse.
And imagine me sitting there on I-90—one hand on the wheel and one hand on my phone and two eyes on my phone for seven straight hours—watching the clock strike 12:01, 12:02, 12:03, 12:04…
12:05, 12:06, 12:07…
12:08…
And then the clock strikes:
12:09, 12:10, … and so on.
And even after that, the (digital) clock strikes 12:11.
And then it strikes 12:12. 12:13. And etc.
You get the idea.
12:14, and so forth. (It’s insane that you keep making me list out the time on the clock. You guys are so fucking dumb. The clock keeps going forward on the minute. Duhh…? Idiots.)
Now imagine me watching the clock keep “striking” these numbers (12:15, 12:16, and such) while being unable to do anything about the lack of an email in your inbox. Each minute is a successive blow to my nuts, producing a sharp, sickening sensation in my deep gluteal tissue as well. Imagine that. And imagine Ritam is fucking flying to Canada or some shit while this is happening, so he’s basically abdicating all responsibility we have to our paying subscribers. The collective impact of these compounding factors was, needless to say, overwhelming.
As I passed by various towns like Moorheadsville and Ashtabula and the Seneca Nation (land acknowledged, of course), helpless, I could do nothing but craft the perfect Low Lift Ask in my head. I crafted such a perfect essay and made it into a perfect shape and rotated it around in my mind perfectly. And trust me, it was perfect. Unfortunately I forgot it all completely once I pulled into my garage.
Instead, here are some thoughts and experiences I had while driving.
Right after inputting my address into Google Maps and right before setting off on the road, I open an email from my beloved Syracuse cheese shop, The Curd Nerd, and learned about a new cheese this week.
After sending this screenshot to a few people, naturally, I then put the car into the famous, ‘ DRIVE !’
A shirtless guy on a two-wheeler just passed me in Ohio—and the back of the vehicle says ‘SUCK ME.’
If you zoom in close, you can see the bedeviled phrase for yourself. Let’s just say I wouldn’t like to be associated with his kind.
Yikes! I should’ve switched into the left lane. A car is stopped on the right shoulder and out from the driver’s seat pops a man with one-arm.
This haunting image happened too quickly for me to capture photographic evidence. I do not know what befell this man, but I will refrain from commenting on the whole “right shoulder” of it all. And you should, as well. You nasty, vile pigs. I know you want to make a little joke about it. But don’t.
What’s the difference between “corporal” and “corporeal?”
Because I was driving, I didn’t really have time to look into this too much. But I hope someone does.
“Drive Like Your Kids Work Here”
I don’t know if there’s some local inside joke here, but this is notable enough for me to think about it for a good two minutes as I pass through Cleveland’s beautiful downtown. I generally would not want my kids to be working at that age—much less in such a physically taxing and dangerous profession.
“A-I oughta…!”
This one’s a bit of a thinker. Someone on The Big Picture podcast just said the phrase “AI” in such a way that I rolled it around on my tongue for a bit. “A I.” “Ay I.” Then imagine this: instead of someone rotating their fists and muttering, “Why I oughta…,” what if someone rotated their fists—in a similar manner—and said, “A-I oughta…” I consider this for another 30 seconds.
License plate that says “SQU1RT”
Someone passes me on the left with the license plate “SQU1RT.”
There’s an exit for something called “Classic Park”
What an awesome name. Classic Park.
Imagining a family that names their kids for landmark Supreme Court cases.
At some point between Erie and Buffalo, I’m imagining a family of children named after landmark cases. Meet my children: Korematsu, Obergefell, Bakke, Bhagat Singh Thind.
These were some of my driving thoughts that I managed to remember. And now we will send this out at the best time imaginable—Friday night on a holiday weekend. The numbers for this better be through the roof!
Ritam’s Footnote
I’m in Canada
Ashtabula