Dear future hubster,
those long solo drives (you know, the ones where you sing along to Adele and cry over Harry Styles and even give some credit to Ed Sheeran) can be an analogy to life, almost too obvious.
Because what is happening when your cross half the continent? You are somewhere and want to get somewhere else. You know what you have to do, and confident you can do it. You also know that some parts of it are going to be ugly, or hard, or upsetting, occasionally even dangerous. You're also aware, especially if you've had similar experiences before, that you may not always enjoy it. You know that there may be events that you can't predict or prevent, and that they may change the course of your entire journey.
And if you're doing it right, there comes a moment when you realise that you're going through lovely landscapes, and although you may be sweaty and stinky and slightly dehydrated and over-caffeinated, that moment is all that matters. You know where you started, you know where you're going, you also know why you're on that road, but after about 800 kilometres you simply appreciate the blue skies over the Bavarian Alps, on-the-fence curiously listen to the German hits of the day, and most of all, you're grateful for the journey.
The actual one, but also the big one. Life, that is.
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