As much as I hate driving sometimes, I have to admit; there's nothing quite as satisfying as driving around Medford at 2 in the morning listening to Wilco on repeat and the signs being honest.

At that moment, it was almost as if my side mirror was attached, my tail light was in one piece, my floor was existant, my gas tank was full, my speakers were full of bass and treble, and my front right tire had air in it.

But then I remembered that I wasn't driving my car.