My car plays music.

Not just Sirius XM and its 70s on 7, Jim Croce and Jethro Tull.

Or Taylor Swift on the Moose with ads for beds from Leon’s.

No, my car is an orchestra.

The tud-bump of tires over a break in the asphalt. The inhale of the engine as it attacks a hill. The whaaah of wheels on interstate concrete.

You see, we’re playing a harmony, me and my car in the here and now.

And as we arrive, there’s crunch-pocky stones, a jolt, a sigh.

Then silence.

We were driving. And now we’re home.