The Green Lightning.

The very first car that I drove as my own was a bright red, 77 Ford Thunderbird. I have just moved to North Carolina and barely had my license for a year, when I got the privilege to borrow this large wagon for my very own use. I was initially terrified at the mere prospect of sitting behind its wheel, but very quickly grew to love this old American legend.

After it was retired to my friends driveway, I bought my very first own car. It was a red Nissan Sentra with a few years on its back. Today I still have the old North Carolina license plate, which until very recently hang on the wall in my basement and now is tucked away somewhere in a box in storage. It stated "First In Flight" and the last sticker on it was from 99, the year I moved back to Europe.

When I relocated to Denmark, I bought my very first new car. A Toyota Yaris. I can still recall the incredible excitement when I drove it out of the car dealership and onto the road, as it was a beginning to a new life.

A car symbolizes so much and is such an important part of our life. My father can recall all the cars he has ever owned and the memories evoke a plethora of sentiments, as he travels in his mind all the way back to the early sixties and lists them one by one. They all have a place in his heart and all a story or two to tell.

Indeed, a car is often a necessity, at times a luxury but ultimately a possession that we bond with in an uncanny way as it is in our life for extended period of time. Over the years my green Toyota became my friend and recently it even received a nickname; The Green Lightning, as its tiny engine has been pushed to the limit in the past many months, while traveling at high speeds for hundred of miles each day, through any kind of weather.

It has served me well, bringing me safely to many destinations, whether in Denmark or abroad. It has been running smoothly, never letting me down, sparing me major repairs and trips to the mechanic. It has seen me through thick and thin, watched many passengers seated next to me, anything from family members to old friends, fleeting acquaintances, colleagues and boyfriends. It has help me move and transport all my possessions on numerous occasions and today it simply carries on its back more than a decade of my personal history.

Thus it was with a heavy heart that I was recently forced to realize that it's time with me has been concluded.
I had to face the fact that it's technology was outdated, it's power weakened and the heavy commute has begun to leave it's mark. Although fuel efficient at low speeds, it is unbelievably uneconomical at high speeds and it has been draining my wallet and my energy for the past eight months.

I never realized that it would be so difficult to part with a car.
Driving it over to the car dealer this past weekend, the exchange was made and we were presented with a shinning new Polo with state of the art technology and modern look. Gazing at my old friend for the last time, I felt a wave of grief enveloping me and struggled to hold back the tears that filled my eyes all of a sudden. Just like when I left my white house on the hill, there were mixed emotions of happiness over something novel and exciting, but also sadness over saying farewell to something very dear, a presence that has been vital and beneficial in my life for so long.

As I contemplated the wish and hope that after a quick make over it might still serve very well to someone new, I was handed the keys to my new car. Gazing at its shiny hood, I could not help but feel that it was smiling at me.
Thus I knew this was the beginning of a new, beautiful friendship.

'Darkness Is My Light'.

This somewhat ominous title is actually a small excerpt from the lyrics to a song made by the band Imagination, called "Hold Me In Your Arms". For those of you who might be interested, there is a clip in the end of this post.

I own their album Closer, purchased as a tape almost twenty five years ago and it is right now on constant reply in my car, keeping me company on my very long drive home each day - after dark.

I love this album and I love this song in particular.
I love it's soulful harmonies and the eighties sound and I enjoy endlessly the memories as they come streaming back, while I recollect my youth to the gentle beats and the so very catching chorus.

Additionally, the mentioned words seem to sum up the period of the year we have just entered in a truly eloquent way.
November, together with December, account for the darkest month here in the cold North. This is the onset of time when twilight rules our days and when indeed, "darkness is our light".

I have mixed feelings about the increasing lack of light. Driving home after the onset of darkness makes for a very unpleasant ride, particularly during heavy rain storms when all I can see through the windshield is a distorted play of lights, resembling a watercolor painting.

Yet the twilight holds also a certain allure, as it instigates a sense of rest. It indicates that everything in nature is now slowly winding down and a period of stillness is ahead. Thus it beckons us to do the same - to retreat to our homes and enjoy the subtle lights of candles and the company of our loved ones.

As I have grown older, I have found novel joy in each season. The darkness of November has truly too its function, if only to reinforce our joy in the month of June, the month of light, balancing out our reality and putting everything into perspective.

(All images in this post are taken on our recent trip across the Danish Islands and in our home.)

Carefree Highway.

My former drive to work was wonderful due to two reasons; it took me by the ocean side and it was short. Upon my recent relocation, neither of the above facts remained.

I love my work endlessly and as I am not keen on introducing too many changes into my life, I decided to keep my old employment, at least initially. Thus every day, my little car takes me on a round-trip that comprises a total of some two-hundred miles and about three hours commuting. A far cry from those fifteen minutes it took me once to drive to work.

However, being an undying optimist, I am slowly adapting to my new routine of long distance driving and I actually enjoy it. Of course, there are some setbacks.
I no longer get to see the sea on every day bases, I cry every day I have to fill up the tank as I see literally money being washed down the drain. I encounter many obnoxious, ignorant drivers and I have realized that driving in heavy rain gives me the creeps. The worst of them all is nevertheless by no means the fact that I waste three hours of my day on being confided inside a car.

With all that said though, the highway that I travel on takes me through some stunning scenery and when the sun shines and the traffic is light, the ride is very pleasant.
I have only a tape deck in the car, thus for a few hours each day I revert to my teenage years as I go through a stack of old tapes, some of them made several decades ago. I keep them stashed on the backseat and each time I sit behind the wheel, I enjoy choosing a new trip through my musical past.

The ride has by now become monotone of course. Gone is the excitement of the initial days, when I sat tensed in the seat, trying to concentrate on the traffic around me, feeling so out of place on a highway early in the morning.  Now-days I recognize each turn and each exit, I know all the speed limits, the places of congestion and the traffic signs. Nevertheless, my little car almost never drove faster than 35mph for a span of ten years. Thus when I accelerate to speeds that I did not think the little Toyota was capable of, I still feel that tingling of excitement in the pit of my stomach, while the speakers convey my favourite harmonies and beats.

I do love the drive home particularly. Due to my odd working hours, I drive past the rush hour and at times the highway is empty and carefree, almost like a wide runaway for my personal use. I sip my new brewed coffee, while I let my mind wonder, digesting the events of the day, winding down slowly, while beautiful natural images pass by the windows. I watch the sun set on my left and I know that by each passing mile I am getting closer to home - and to the loving arms of my man.

Unfortunately, I know that in a couple of months, this drive will be of a quiet different kind. As we reach the end of autumn and the days will grow darker and grey, when snow and rain will be my companions and only the headlights or tail lights of passing cars my beacons, I will recollect with an occasional longing those fifteen minutes it once took me to get home.

Still, there is one thought that will keep me warm and safe through my long drive - the thought of a lit house with warmth and love inside, the one waiting for me at the destination. Indeed, once it took me only a fraction of the time to come home, but I came home to a dark and empty place, devoid of happiness and affection.

I would not go back to that ever again and would drive a thousand miles if I had to. To get back home.

(Note: All images in this post and below are taken during my beautiful drive home.)

Flashback Friday (Christmas Edition): "Driving Home For Christmas".

Let me finish this working week with yet another post about that enchanted precipitation we call snow.

On the 23d of December 2001 I was driving home for Christmas, just like the title of this lovely Christmas song below states. The ride was going to take me from Jutland in Denmark to southern Sweden, where my parents lived at that time. All by highway, passing two super bridges, the trip should have lasted about three hours tops. That was the plan at least.

I have not driven this route before - in fact this was my first trip driving alone. I packed everything the night before, which was a grey, foggy and drizzly winter evening, so very common in our part of the world. When I woke up early next morning, imagine my surprise as I looked out of the windows; white landscape and heavy snow fall met my gaze. It was magical and simply unbelievable.

I was so caught up in the spirit of Christmas that I refused to cancel (or postpone) my trip and decided to drive into this storm. I had no equipment and no winter tires on my little Toyota. To this day I can feel the pain in my muscles from the way I tensed my body during the whole drive. Barely seeing the highway at times, the trip took seven hours without any rest or stop. Sometimes I did not know if I was going to make it. I saw luxury cars and large SUVs all around me in ditches or barely moving. But my spirits were lifted when I realized what my car was capable off. I felt like the king of the road, as my FANTASTIC Toyota with its narrow wheels cut through the snow like a knife through butter - while other luxury makes would glide on their wide tyres unable to continue. I love that little car.

I have no idea how I made it, but I did. This was the last Christmas to date that I recall being white. And I recall something else as well; Chris Rea's soothing voice streaming out of the car radio, singing this particular compilation, keeping my spirits up throughout the trip. I had it on repeat in my tape-player and it gave me courage to continue, as I sang along for hours, the sentiments in it making me feel as if I was not alone.

I dedicate this to everyone who is driving home this Holiday Season; have a wonderful and very safe trip.

"My Toyota Is Fantastic".

The above sentence was printed on the rear windshield in the first new car my father was able to purchase in Sweden.

After struggling through the pain of many used and often unreliable cars, in the late eighties my parents again found themselves in the position of being able to afford buying a brand new car. It was a Toyota Carina II. To this day my father thinks of the car fondly and recalls it as one of the best cars he ever owned.

As I already did not live at home at that time, I mostly experienced the car on the many trips abroad I took with my parents in the late eighties and early nineties. It was that car that took us back to Czech Republic for the first time after the fall of communism, it was the one which drove us through Berlin after the fall of the wall and it was in this car that I drove south with my parents, to the Mediterranean where the picture above was taken.
It was also my fathers Toyota that I drove as the first car with my father during the time in which I took my driving license.

Taking my driving license was pure hell. It was the worst and most costly experience I recall ever in my life. I had to borrow money to get it and and I failed the written test once and the driving test twice, before obtaining the license on my third try.
The license eventually cost me nearly as much as my current car. It was a terrible ordeal that caused me a lot of anguish and distress, but that is another story all together.

With that said though, I was lucky enough to have it once I moved to the US, where (as I learned very quickly) having a car was absolutely vital. The first year while living in North Carolina, I drove a red 77 Ford Thunderbird, which belonged to my friends. Driving this magnificent car was an experience of a life time, which I have described previously.

Once I moved back to Denmark, after having the privilege of driving my own car for almost ten years, I knew I could not go back to be using the public transportation system. I simply had to buy a new car. And this time around, just like my father did before me, I decided to buy a new Toyota. The reasons were many, but most of all the decision was based on price. Toyotas are inexpensive in Denmark, or reasonably priced at least. The Danes do not produce their own cars and furthermore, the state taxes the cars. To each car price, between 100-500% is added on taxes, depending on the make, the size, the fuel usage etc.

My Toyota Yaris, the first model from 1999, is an amazing machinery in every way. It is reliable and practical. It gets me where I need to go using almost no gas; during normal usage, I need to refill it only once a month. With its small size I can park it anywhere. It is a joy to drive, whether in the city, in the country side or on the highway. I have even driven it safely through a snowstorm, where other luxury makes found themselves unable to continue and ended up in ditches. It handles well anywhere and I love its manual transmission, that makes every drive so much fun. Small, yet very spacious and very safe. Even though soon ten years old, it looks and feels like new.

I love my car and I simply can not imagine my life without it. Yes indeed, My Toyota Is Fantastic!

A Drive In The Countryside.

When I was driving back from the airport on a very early Friday morning last week, although my mood was somber, the drive home was simply stunning. Somehow the beauty of the nature around helped me to forget about my sadness for just a while...

We were up early that morning, it was still dark and the world was half asleep. As we headed south on the highway, we watched the sun rise on a pristine autumn sky, while the clouds retreated slowly. It was one of those unforgettable moments in time, sharing a simple yet beautiful experience in silence...
The air was cold and fresh and held a promise of a beautiful fall day.

When I was driving back alone, the deserted country roads offered stunning views and I could not resist taking a few shots out of the car. The beauty of the autumn countryside made the drive one of a kind.
(Please click images below to enlarge.)

It seems also somewhat appropriate to mention that I have joined the Giving Thanks Challenge hosted by South Breeze Farm. I will post a single sentence each day, under the image in my sidebar, throughout the month of November, listing the things in my life that I am thankful for.

Traffic Lights.

I drive to work every day. Most of the time I enjoy my drive, as it takes me through some beautiful parts of the city and also along the seaside. The duration of the drive varies anywhere between 10 minutes, when the traffic is light, up to 25 minutes if I am unlucky and need to drive during the rush hour.
As I am not forced to be in the lab at a given hour, I rarely feel pressed for time when I drive. However, my stress level rises occasionally, if I meet bad drives or encounter a "red wave" at the traffic lights.

Traffic lights are a somewhat strange construction, a necessity that keeps the traffic flowing, however, they also adequately know how to ruin our day. Or at least our drive. Sometimes, if I miss one green light, the rest of the traffic lights on my way will be red. Of course, it can be the other way around as well, when I hit the "green wave", which unfortunately happens very rarely and usually when I need it the least. Then there are the always red ones. No matter when I arrive, they always turn red, making me turn red in return.

I stumbled upon this amusing clip, showing a somewhat organized traffic chaos at an intersection somewhere in the world. One that would benefit strongly from having a traffic light installed.

The Thunderbird.

This weekend I was sorting through some old photographs and I found a picture of the car I drove the first two years of my stay in the US. A 77 Ford Thunderbird, bright red with white leather seats. I got to borrow it from my good friends. I couldn't sleep the night before I was to drive it for the first time. I have had my driving license at that time for barely a year, during which I was not driving at all and on top of everything, I was used to drive small cars in Europe. This one was huge and scary. But it became quickly my very best friend, a friend with a personality and attitude. It was a true art to manage parking it. The seat belts did not work, the windshield washers only sometimes, and if you slowed down below a certain speed, the car engine would quit and the car could no longer be controlled as the steering wheel was locked. I once got stuck this way in an intersection and almost hit a lamppost. In the end I had to refill the oil every week and finally I realized it was time to trade it for a newer model. But man, no one but me sitting in the Thunderbird could leave the modern cars behind in the dust when the traffic lights turned green! I barely touched the gas pedal and it flew on its way! I recall how strange it was to have the transmission at the wheel and the hand brake and long beam lights were activated by pedals in the floor. It had no air-condition, which was a very trying obstacle to overcome in the very hot and humid summers of the southeast. But I managed to drive it safely for almost two years and even made a long trip to Florida before it was retired back to my friends driveway for good.