Requiem for a Highway Buddy
Driving can be both communal and isolating. Sometimes, you’ll hit the road with a loved one or the whole family, only to find them locked to their mobile gaming systems, fascinated by their phones, or outright asleep. Sometimes you head out with only music or podcasts to keep you company. That’s why, in my opinion, there is no more genuine, valuable, pure connection you can make than that with a highway buddy.
Be the best Highway buddy: In a Chevrolet Trax
Highway buddy: noun
1: The driver you find on a long road trip who seems to understand the speed you want to travel at and your passing strategy.
2: Any person who is driving the same type of vehicle as you, to whom you feel irrationally compelled to connect with for that same reason.
3: The best friend you’ll ever have that you’ll never know.
Finding a highway buddy feels like fate and serendipity coming together to create a beautiful moment, just for you. Driving on the highway can feel like a situational binary between avoiding aggressive drivers hell-bent on topping the speed limit no matter what, and trying to navigate around people for whom 45 mph is a terrifying prospect.
A highway buddy is a perfect antidote. They give you a benchmark for your maximum speed, so you know how much more or less than the speed limit is acceptable on the route. They give you an excuse to pass that infuriatingly slow driver you’re thinking about bypassing, if for no other reason than to maintain the rare connection you’ve made.
They also represent a paradox that just screams “indie movie in the making.” There is no worse moment, excepting an accident, than when your highway buddy — the person you’ve come to trust and rely on, if not know — takes an exit ramp.
Of course, you’ll miss them, but somehow, meeting them would feel wrong. It would destroy the intangible magic between you. It would dissolve the mystery. It would betray the faceless alliance, the unspoken union you’ve developed over the miles you traversed together.
It is a singular relationship. One to be treasured, celebrated, and never taken for granted.
Be a buddy to your Chevy: Only the best service.
<– This is what Aaron actually looks like.
Aaron was born in a suburb of Toledo, Ohio and has managed to traverse most of the state between college and various shenanigans. Having majored in video game development and minored in film studies, he is a considerable fan of both forms of media. Additionally, he is available to explain why Mad Max: Fury Road is one of the best feminist films of all time at the drop of a hat. His aspirations include — but are not limited to — not accidentally adopting any more cats and developing a responsible sleep schedule. See more articles by Aaron.