Veda Riley Journey Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world The music blared from my cars

stereo. Im not exactly sure how I came to be the chauffer that evening, but I didnt mind. (As the only one of my friends with a convertible, I tend to be volunteered to drive on most occasions.) It was unusually warm for fall, so the top was down. As clich as it sounds, there really is nothing like the wind streaming through my hair. It makes me feel more alertmore awake, like Im more connected with my surroundings. Even though my tiny vehicle was filled to capacity with passengers, I felt alone. Its not the lonely, depressing kind of alone, but rather the calm, contemplative type of alone. The kind of alone that makes a person understand why Harper Lee is so reclusive. That type of alone is bliss. Abruptly, I was wrought from such peace by a booming voice from the backseat. The bridge! Lets go over the bridge! Too disappointed in rejoining reality to argue, I turned. I had seen the bridge at night before, but tonight it wasdifferent. The lights shone brilliantly against the clear November night sky. As I drove across the spectacular structure, I lifted my head towards the stars. I couldnt have glanced for more than a second, but that was enough. I felt a sensation I had never experienced before. It was beyond ecstasy. The bridge seemed to stretch into eternity, but even that was too short. As my wheels hit the poor, crumbling Illinois pavement, I realized the sensation I had just experienced. That was freedom.