One of my favorite things will forever be driving along long, winding back roads. It is especially so during the early golden mornings as the fog lifts, and the sun’s rays tenderly shoot across the land through the tree line. The steady hum of the engine carries me along down the paved road. Air so refreshing brings me to roll down every window, and the wind rushes into the car and through my tangled hair. Rolling hills, fences, and trees move past me as my gaze is drawn down the steady length of the road. The sky stands firm and still, a mighty backdrop. No music comes from the stereo. I like the silence of the drive and the steady strum of the engine and tires and wind. I like the solitude. To breathe deeply of the new morning air, full of freshness as everything dreamily awakens. My hand loosely grips the steering wheel. The morning mist rises; the sunlight continues to advance across the morning sky, beaming its brilliance across the expanse of the land, igniting the timberland and brush alight. It’s a time to think, and not think. A time to just be, and yet, move onward towards a destination, or no where in particular. I can be in silence, or sing as loudly as I want. Long, winding back roads in the countryside? Yes, please.