The single most important part of my day is when I am alone in my car driving to work. Alone I listen to the thoughts of the day and prepare my thoughts, getting some interesting fodder for future talking points. This format, sitting in car listening to the radio, is a place I have been many times, and the first thing that I remember when I wonder why it is so important to me is that I feel like everyone is a blank slate.
We all start out the day in much the same way as Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day. We all get to wake up, hit the snooze alarm, take a shower, drive to work, and all this is not often imitated purposefully, but is often the same process through which our bodies go every day. I feel lots of times in my life I am just carrying myself from one place to the next, in my pod, which happens to be a red pickup truck. Tons of places later, I still have my little space ship to listen to whatever I want, retort aloud to some ridiculous thing I heard on the radio, and no one can touch me. I feel it is a bit like living in the vacuum of space, where there is no feedback but one’s own input.
I feel like this isn’t the first thing I thought about when trying to answer why I ranked radio as my favorite form of media. I feel a little hesitant to admit that I instantly recalled that day fifteen years ago when I had just filled up my car at the gas station. I had been listening to the radio describe a plane that had flown into the World Trade tower. I recall in my mind, but maybe not on the radio the shape of the plane. Was it a cessna? Who was the pilot? Was he flying too low and missed his mark over the building, or was it engine failure? I flew that plane in my mind, thinking about how many people fly everyday, so what’s so different about this flight that he crashed?
After thinking those thoughts I got back in my car and drove over to the library. I remember talking to one of the librarians, or maybe she just spoke into the air, about there being two planes. How moments after I had gotten into my car, a second plane had hit. I remember the rest of that day in trips I took around the city, wondering about the tallest buildings in the country, and how many of them were safe. I remember thinking about moving to Canada. I ran around town with my thoughts in my little balloon and I was afforded the luxury of having no one else say anything back, no one else to wonder, except me.