For a lot of people, driving is a pretty easy thing. You get in the car, and as long as you know enough to safely operate it, you drive somewhere. Point A leads to Point B, and if you arrive safely, you’re done.

Simple, right? Wrong.

I supposed if you consider driving in an individualist sort of sense, you can really boil it down to that first paragraph; but reality being what it is, we don’t drive in a vacuum, and the roads are clogged with other drivers all doing the same thing: driving.

In a very real sense, a busy road is a profoundly philosophical metaphor for life itself. There you are, in your car, surrounded by other people in their vehicles, all trying to do something, all governed by a sophisticated set of rules that some abide by and others violate.

But it’s more than that, even. We’re not all going to the same place, and we’re not all trying to accomplish the same thing. Some people have all the time in the world, and put that fact on four wheels, all too often in the passing lane. Others are in a hurry to get somewhere, and break just about every rule trying to get to that place. Still others just love driving, and do it for the sheer love of hands-on-the-wheel, rubber-meets-the-road driving.

That road, taken collectively, is the sum of all those ideals. We take our philosophies and drive them out. You can keep going. What you drive says something about you. What are your priorities in a car? Fast? Loud? Understated? Luxurious? Practical? Indy-ready? Are you driving with someone, or are you driving alone? Is that because of circumstance, or because of choice? What do you have in the trunk?

It’s not really all that important to know this before you put your foot on the pedal. Not really. But in the course of driving, maybe you’ll notice it. And how profoundly it effects what you’re doing. All your philosophies wrapped up like your fingers on the wheel.

And to advance a metaphor that Doug Wilson once used, driving is like being saved. You don’t actually have to know anything about engines or traffic flow to drive the car. You just need a few basics. You believed. It was done. You got in. You drove. On the other hand, taking apart an engine or programming traffic lights is much like preaching that grace. You don’t trust a typesetter with the monkey wrench, and you don’t let the CEO program the traffic lights: that’s why we have mechanics and techies, so we can drive the long roads without breaking down and running into eighteen-wheelers.

One more thing. A friend of mine broke up with his girlfriend yesterday. Suddenly, you find yourself alone in the car. You turn up the music. You keep driving.

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