You get used to driving long distances when you live in Nebraska, or really anywhere other than New England. I don’t mind sailing down the highway with cruise control employed, singing along to country, pop, alternative, or really any of the music that comes on when I fiddle with the radio one-handed. I also don’t mind driving in the dark.
I actually enjoy driving along darkened highways and interstates more than driving in the sunshine. It’s invigorating, your headlights lighting the road in front of you, stars and occasionally the moon contributing faint blue-white light to the night. Do you know why moonlight is often more blue than white, given that the moon almost always looks white? I don’t. But I find it beautiful.
I love listening to late-night radio, especially when the subject matter is one I recognize. On the drive back to Hastings after Thanksgiving, I happened upon an NPR broadcast about the Irish-American and immigration. Having just returned from Ireland, and with my own family as part of that culture (slightly, because I think we came over in the mid-1800s).
It also happens that I come awake late at night. Once the sun vanishes below the horizon, I become more alert. My mother remarked on this when we were traveling up to Minnesota for Thanksgiving, especially since not even a half-hour before I was yawning at intervals. I don’t know what about the night wakes me up, but I attribute it to being more of a night-owl than an early-bird (I’ve never been even remotely good at waking up in the morning).
Long drives, however, become exponentially more fun when you have company in the car. Maybe one of these days I’ll make the road trip up to Niagara Falls with a few friends. I’ve only been planning that journey for six years now. For now, I suppose I’ll just have to become used to the long expanse of fields and small towns that make up Nebraska.