The Driver and the Passenger sit in a moving car which is being driven along a blurred highway lined with tall pine trees. The conversation being held seems to be only an highly intellectual filler to keep the silence at bay.
The Driver is good at driving, she seems to know all the rules and rules the road with confidence and a polite attitude. She often lets the Passenger do the talking, she never gets carried away in her own thoughts, but rather be tickled by the imaginings of the Passenger.
The Passenger is usually in the facade of a young girl, age seven or eight. Where as the Driver is always the age of actuality, the Passengers' imagination allows her to be any age. It seems when the Passenger is relaxed she assumes the age she likes most.
More often than not, it is the Passenger who is the one who seems to carry all the knowledge held in the car. She spouts ingenious amounts of insight for different situations, seeming to understand people in a very adept way. The Driver usually comments to correct or guide, showing that hidden below the fearful exterior, lies a wealth of knowledge even larger than the Passengers.
This guidance the Driver does for the Passenger seems the only means of teaching she is comfortable with.
Driving into a new area makes the Driver nervous, while she searches for the right route, the Passenger keeps up her knowledge-spouting, although often stopping to give the Driver a place of comfort. The Driver and the Passenger both seem to understand a new way of interacting is needed in order to gain more from life. They seem to struggle at first, the Driver insisting, without relenting, that she make all the decisions. While the Passenger, who previously seemed to make all the stories on her own, didn't want to relent any part of her imagination because she valued it so much.
They bickered, swerving the car, each holding firm. But both are slowly coming to terms that to survive, they much each learn something new.
They have never felt the drive to learn. It seems unfathomable, as if not relating to them. They have gone fine without learning. They both are. But deep inside the Passenger lies a quiet manual of how Perfect People live. The Passenger seems fearful of outwardly putting to much trust in this manual, but believes it is the only way to live. The driver has gained respect of the Passenger, so she listens while the Passenger speaks in her low tones that mesmerize the Driver into a comfortable lull. The Driver usually starts out of this lull, believing a crisis is near because she isn't aware of her driving anymore. She is beginning to understand that the driving is. She falls deeper into the lull of the story, but she feels as if it is she who ought to know it by heart and who should be telling it. She looks at the Passenger with questions boiling to the brim, it seems none are answered.
The Passengers' only true love and whim is to tell this story, to read this manual, to teach her Driver of what she needs. It seems everything is coming true for her. She seems to faintly wonder how she could have waiting so long to tell this story, it must have been the only true story in her heart. All the other musings seem worthy but simply a diversion and a distraction from the Truth. She sees the Driver eyeing her with insecurities, but she is impatient to get out all of the story, so desperate that nothing else matters to her. The Driver does feel insecure, but soon realizes that she can wait. She rationalizes that the Truth the Passenger tells is worthy enough to respectfully listen to. She knows she can wait for the end. She knows she will find a place to intervene. She now realizes they must work together to gain a compromise to use each others strengths to the highest advantage.
The passenger sees the Driver relax, listening patiently and the Passenger recognizes a serene beauty in the Drivers face. The Passenger finds herself faltering as her own insecurities arise. She often looks in the mirror, touches her face, she watches the beautiful Driver with awe and self pity for her own lack of beauty. The Passenger struggles to understand how to be beautiful, too. So, she asks the Driver, the only one she would ever ask, “How do you become so beautiful?”
The Driver sees something in the Passengers face she had felt moments earlier and the sun seems to shine in her mind. She can give the Passenger the knowledge that will make her happy.
She replies, “When I felt my insecurities arise, I realized that no matter what, I needed you as much as I need myself. I felt myself relax in a patient sort of way. I believe that is the beauty you see in me now.”
The Passenger sighed, unsure of how to do it. She looked herself in the eye, focused on the Drivers words, trying to feel the way the words made her feel.
She felt stuck, she tried to realize this is what it felt like, but she remained stuck until the Driver placed her hand on the Passengers arm in sympathy and support. The Passenger felt an instant relief, that moment looking to the mirror to see the same beautiful face as the drivers, in the mirror before her. She placed her own hand on top of the Drivers and smiled a gentle loving smile. They continued to feel good together. Time and space seemed to warp, their eyes growing heavy, neither knowing what the issue was that made them feel so burdened. They cast wary glances at each other. They both had the idea that their car was missing a person. But not really missing, in the backseat they felt a man, the man who had been present their entire lives but had not made himself known. It seemed a stretch for them to have made such a discovery between themselves to then stretch even further to include this elusive man. They tried, turning in their seat to catch a glimpse of him. But, he remained elusive. Together, now one entire person never to be broken up again, they felt frustrated. It was the car, it was breaking down. There was a fear but it was small compared to the frustration they felt towards the man in the backseat who made no move to help them. They gossiped angrily about how antisexual the man was. They seemed to know in their heart that he cared and that their bickering was only making him feel worse. They feared they were only children compared to him, they desperately wish he would scold them, then set their attitudes straight. They felt ignorant towards the man. These two carpoolers had a awful aversion to being ignorant.
They sat quietly, waiting for him to proceed. He, invisibly, walked out of the car, fixed it and got back in. She felt small, uncertain, unwilling to continue in the way she had before. He had proven them wrong, but he made no other moves to become friendly with them. She beckoned him into the front seat, which he motioned with his hands in a wave of denial. She sat alone, feeling guilty, feeling distressed. She looked behind her, sighing. She knew she would need to replace this invisible man. Looking out onto the street she watched as many men walked across the road and along the sidewalks. She saw none that would replace him. She felt fear of kicking him out to then have an empty car. If it broke down, what would she do? It would be dangerous, she had always relied on his charisma to get her out of embarrassing or sticky situations. But, she soon started thinking about the bad situations he had let he go into. The times he should have stuck up for her but hadn't. He had let her make a fool of herself, he had let her be hurt, emotionally, nearly beyond repair. He seemed an invisible tormenter who only made himself useful in partial situations.
She sat contemplating what to do. He tapped her on the shoulder, asking for a cig. She refused, turning in her seat, feeling even more fearful to keep this man. Yet, fearful of what might happen if she turned him out, knowing if he could fix this car, he could easily break it. She suddenly hated him. She burst into tears that tore her heart into pieces. So she got out of the car, locking it and throwing the keys into the forest. He would never get out and she would never find her way back in. It seemed like freedom outside of the car. She had never even considered exiting the car, it had always been in motion. She then saw other people, real people sitting in cars, cruising past. Married couples, men and women, sometimes women and women, men and men. She cried in joy to know that being in a single car alone was not the only fate available to her.
She set fire to the car, taking off the license plates that she placed in her bag. She began to walk. At first, walking seemed to be like being at the lowest point in life, but after awhile, she made her way to a nicer neighborhood. This made her relax, she decided then to make her life as pleasant as possible.
There were times when she rode in other cars, with fully visible men. She always exited safely, feeling grateful for the bits of good information her invisible man had taught her. She still felt a twinge of regret for getting rid of him, but she knew instinctively that leaving a car, is something every person is meant to do.