Two of us riding nowhere
Spending someone’s
Hard earned pay
You and me Sunday driving
Not arriving
On our way back home
–the Beatles/Two of Us
Go for a ride together. Motorcycle, car, boat, train, small plane, helicopter, whatever. Going somewhere, anywhere, nowhere in particular.
They used to call it a Sunday Drive, back in the days when gas was cheap.
Talk a little, be quiet a little, turn the music up and sing along. Roll the windows down. Open the sun roof. Put the top down. Sunglasses and baseball caps. Put your head back against the head rest and smile. Dance in your seat. Put your hand on his knee and your head on his shoulder. Laugh. Push your hair out of your eyes.
Shove the seat back. Put your bare feet up on the dash board. Read him the good parts of your book. Read him the good parts of his book and laugh when he gets mad because he hasn’t read those parts yet.
Take pictures out the window. Take pictures of the sky. Post them on Twitter. Check yourselves into places you didn’t go with people who weren’t there. Text your friends pictures of random things you see along the way.
Stop and have a beer. Stop and have a sno-cone. Stop and have a snowball fight. Stop and have the best hamburger ever. Stop and smoke a cigar sitting on the tailgate. Stop and drink Fireball out of a flask. Stop and see a baseball game. Stop and kiss by a river. Stop and hug on a beach. Stop and take a selfie at sunset. Stop and watch shooting stars over a lake.
Hold hands on the way home. Hold hands on the way to a hotel because you went further than you meant to. Hold hands on the balcony with your feet up on the rail.
Share a blanket if it’s too cold. Get in bed if it’s too cold. Get in bed if it isn’t too cold. It’s getting late. Listen to each other’s hearts beating. Smile against his chest.
Say goodnight and be happy.
Sleep late and take the long way home in the morning.