Women can’t fathom the sheer pleasure of a cruise because they don’t interface with vehicles on a subconscious level. When a man pilots a machine, he becomes it. His subconscious awareness exits first person view and he gets a third person perspective on the entire vehicle, that’s why they call it your “Third Eye”. It opens the first time you ignite a combustion engine and control something bigger than yourself. When women do it, they don’t have that connection, they’re just consciously turning the wheel, pressing pedals, and pushing buttons. They have to actively think about everything they’re doing with latency, it’s why they get increasingly stressed the longer they’re on the road. God gave men the ability to interface with vehicles, just like He gave women the ability to ruin every good moment a man could’ve had by opening their mouths. It makes perfect sense that women and Europeans can’t understand the value of a good drive. It’s like being a horse roaming the open concrete plains of the greatest expanse of interconnected infrastructure in human history. The cheeky cruise, the highway zoom, the interstate journey, and the coveted night drive are core elements of being a man. You watch the world through a montage of scenes displayed on your windshield. You occupy a state of absolute seclusion while nestled amongst the greatest intersection of human activity your community has to offer. You experience music in a way nobody in human history could have done, even on a level of versatility and ease not possible only 20 years ago. It surrounds you with perfect clarity and impact, becoming the soundtrack to your existence as you travel at speeds that ancient kings and holy prophets couldn’t have even fathomed. As civilization dwindles into a slumbering era of decline, the night drive increasingly becomes an expression of abundance. It is to burn gasoline simply for the sake of experiencing what a tiny sliver of human existence has been privileged to know, raw speed and power controlled between your fingertips. The wind beckoning at your command, blustering into the palm of your hands at the exact force you choose. An entirely different universe ready to receive your existence, near teleportation, all within a few hours time. A car is the perfect midway between the rawest technological potential of experience (the fighter jet) and the ubiquity of availability within the human condition (walking). To drive a car is to acknowledge that you are alive in the most viscerally abundant manner possible, by coming closer to death than you do in nearly any other point in your life. To drive is to live. To drive is to touch greatness even occupying the lowest dregs of life. To drive is to embrace the consequence and responsibilities of power as you enter the great asphalt arena. When I am driving, I am a real human being, and a real hero. I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, I do nothing but think of you. You keep me under your spell. You keep me under your spell. You keep me under your spell. You keep me under your spell. You keep me under your spell. You keep me under your spell.