This was a comment from one of my facebook friends about a book called “North Toward Home.” I loved it, because it spoke to me as someone who drove back and forth to Tennessee so often last year. The part about “automatic pilot” really got me:
“It’s the title of one of my favorite books – a perennial summer read. One of my favorite passages is the one I thought of when I posted my status last night: ‘In a fast car, a man can almost make it to Tennessee on automatic pilot, driving the straight, level road in a kind of euphoria, past the cotton fields and the tenant shacks, the big plantation houses and the primitive little Negro churches, over the muddy creeks and rivers, through the counties with the forgotten Indian names – Leflore, Coahoma, Tallahatchie, Tunica.'”
After I left law school, I could not drive to Nashville without feeling terrible…nauseated, even. In fact, I only made the trip to Nashville twice in maybe six months afterward, in both cases to help Mike and Ashley with their moving process. After that, I avoided making the drive to Nashville for years, unless I had to go to the airport.
After last year, I have a lot of practice making that drive. Now, the trip to Nashville seems to fly right by–funny how that works. All it takes is the right motivation.