Midnight Ride:

selected sounds to aid in navigating the darkness

Part IX of

Sonic Highways: Musical Immersion on the Roads of America

I know a lot of people that hate driving. Seriously, they HATE it. I don’t think I could ever hate something as liberating as driving. First world problems – aint nobody got time for that.

Ok, so living in a city can be very stressful, and that kind of stress can easily transfer to any facet of everyday life, driving included. When I was living in New York, I often had a car, though it was mostly just to get around Brooklyn. Driving in Manhattan is an absolute nightmare (as is parking), though every borough has its ugly moments depending on the time of day. When I would drive home to my folks’ house in Connecticut, I would have to brave driving through not one borough, but THREE, just to get out of the city itself. It all started with a trek along the dreaded BQE (Brooklyn-Queens Expressway) – aka the blood-clot of Long Island; that road alone is enough to make you want to throw your driver’s license into an incinerator. Honestly, by the time I would reach the Bronx I would sometimes just give up and turn around.

I learned how to drive in rural/suburban Connecticut, where there is no rush hour, or toll bridges, or big annoying buses to circumvent. My driver’s test consisted of me driving down a road for a mile, making a few turns, and backing into a parking space. That’s it. We didn’t have any roads that were more than two lanes within a twenty-mile radius of my hometown. Even I-95 – the only major highway nearby (besides I-91, but that’s easily 25-30 miles away) – is terribly narrow, save for a few splits or bridges every thirty miles or so where the road would broaden to three lanes. The only things that suck about driving in Connecticut are: 1). any time you have to drive to New Haven (don’t ask; and if you don’t know, run away!), and dealing with the summer beach traffic, which is easily avoidable if you know the back roads as well as I do (of which there are like six). Oh, and our dear friends from our neighboring state to the north – Massachusetts – pump out drivers that are notoriously aggressive, reckless and inconsiderate, thus garnering the beloved nickname of “Massholes.” In fact, I didn’t think there were worse drivers than Massholes, but lo-and-behold, they do exist (but we’ll get to that part in a bit).

I felt like a bit of a dork the first time I tried driving in New York, but I got used to it pretty quickly. The one thing you have to remember is that people don’t want to get in an accident, so the key is to be assertive and aware, without being a dick. Outside of Manhattan it’s a little easier to drive at your own pace and maneuver as you see fit, but New York is New York so you’re always going to encounter dick drivers. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles. California drivers are the same way. They’re a bit more daydreamy and tra-la-la most of the time, but they can haul ass and cut you off like any other if given the chance.

New Orleans is a completely different story. I lived there for several years and I very clearly remember taking time to map out specific routes almost every time I left my house. Obviously, everybody does these kinds of calculations all the time, but in New Orleans there are a bunch of extra things to take into consideration. First of all, New Orleans is tiny. The actual area the city itself takes up is surprisingly small; it’s just very densely populated – kinda like New Jersey. Aside from the downtown area/central business district/French Quarter, it doesn’t look much like a city. Once you’re out of that general area, it more resembles a suburb than it does an actual city. It’s actually one of the reasons I love New Orleans so much; because it’s not just concrete, there are houses and yards and great big oak trees and gardens, oh my!

However, due to its non-city-like layout, it is SO easy to get lost there. There are basically only four main throughways. Everything else is side streets that may or may not be one way (dey don’t got the money to tell ya!), and basically every street is littered with potholes. I popped seven tires in the four years I lived there.

Also, you can’t turn left ANYWHERE in that fucking city, especially at major intersections at which you more than likely really, really need to turn left. But it just can’t happen. There are U-Turns all over that place, but left turns are a big no-no for some reason. Traffic-law-wise, it’s basically the New Jersey of the South, except without the convenience of jug-handles. Furthermore, Louisiana drivers might be the worst ever: they apparently have absolutely no idea what a turn signal is, and 80% of them are drunk, or just really dumb. That’s what you get when you have virtually no open container laws and drive-thru daiquiri shops, I guess.

So yeah, I guess I can understand why my friends around there hate driving: confusing urban planning, the inability to turn left, drunk drivers, and constant implementation of evasive maneuvers can put a damper on things. Nighttime makes it all the more terrible, because the potholes become harder to see and the other drivers get drunker. Sigh.

"That’s what you get when you have virtually no open container laws and drive-thru daiquiri shops, I guess."

Still, you can throw all the Massholes and potholes and dickholes and BQEs at me and it will never change the fact that I love driving, especially in places like California, Asheville, and of course my home state fo Connecticut. The back-country roads in my town hold a very special place in my heart, and when I was in college and would go home for a few days during each season, I got to enjoy different facets of said roads: lush green trees in summer, snow-kissed branches in winter, pimply buds in spring, and a symphony of earthy tones in autumn. I have driven those roads often, with no particular destination in mind. The journey—however short—is what would entice me. I’m a sucker for nostalgia and sentimentality, especially when it comes to the simple things, so it felt great just looping around those roads, with the windows rolled down (even in winter) and the tunes cranked high.

In my younger days I often visited said roads late at night as well. There’s something magic about driving at night up there, some sense of insatiable wonder that glows within, begging to discover that which stirs or slumbers in the surrounding night. Those particular roads were terribly adventurous at night – mostly because basically nobody else drove on them past 8 PM – but also their winding, serpentine nature added to the mystery of what lie beyond the narrow slivers of light carved out by my headlights. Those are the kind of back roads that have virtually no streetlights (maybe one every mile or so, just to mark the blind driveways), and even though I drove them all the time, they still hold some sense of mystique.

I travel a lot, so I’m pretty familiar with car trips enveloped in splendid, unbiased darkness. There are some roads that seem to vanish completely as soon as night falls; the Florida Turnpike (between Orlando and Fort Pierce) almost seems to drown in the night, with only the white lane markings distinguishing it from the surrounding farmland. I’ve driven on Pennsylvania highways in the wee hours of the morning as Mack trucks flew by me at 90 mph, and I felt the terrain beneath me shift gradually as I drove out of Nebraska twilight into Colorado night.

It doesn’t really matter where you are or what kind of road you’re on—whether it be long, flat interstate or windy woodland streets—darkness has the uncanny ability to mystify, to enchant. As the surrounding space fades and falls silent, a special kind of excitement and uncertainty sets in (especially in the desert). Like an astronaut swimming through empty space searching for footing, a driver in the night becomes entranced, with only the moon and sugary star-scape to guide and comfort them.

Fitting music for night driving should be at the same time reflective of the placidity of the surrounding environment, as well as invigorating and formidable. The following playlist is best suited for warm summer nights, as the sensuality of blowing wind adds to the overall experience, though it is suitable for any night drive. It delicately balances soothing, ethereal music, reflective of the stillness of the darkness; and exhilarating, lively songs to keep you awake and present as you journey bravely into the night air. Throw it on and listen straight through, or press shuffle, it doesn’t matter. Or use it to make your own nocturnal soundtrack. Whatever gets you through the night

But seriously, stay away from New Haven. Ugh.