In a few days I will have been driving the Land Rover for six months. I’ve grown comfortable sitting up high, bouncing and rattling along, trailed by a faint mist of diesel carbon.
I spend a good bit of time shifting up and down and today I became aware of how I can feel the gears through the shifter, meshing and engaging. All the sounds have now become familiar. My entire body is involved in turning and breaking (both manual). I imagine myself in one of those robot-like loaders Ripley operated in Alien. The machine an extension of my body (or the other way round).
On those rare occasions when I rent a car for a road trip I’m immediately aware of how little the vehicle needs me to get where we’re going. A little pressure on the accelerator, a light touch on the steering wheel. The Rover is a visceral experience. A feint reminder of what a thrill it must have been to drive those early automobiles.
