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  • Last November, I drove solo from San Francisco to New Orleans. And no, unfortunately, it wasn’t in this car. That would’ve been pretty cool though. I found this piece of work in Marfa, Texas, sitting there all by its lonesome on an empty street. It was a surreal moment. I almost thought the car might start speaking to me.

    Apparently, it belongs to Tommy. At least, that’s what the girl at the front desk of my motel said the following morning as I was checking out. And everyone in Marfa knows each other so I’m guessing she’s right.

    I look at this photo now and realize that maybe this car was speaking to me and saying, presumably in a nice Texas drawl, “Hey there, Gillian! Guess what? You’re on a riiide of a lifetime!”

    And you know what? I think I was. Hours upon hours all by myself. My car, my camera, the road, the land, the sky. I did whatever I wanted to do and made my own path. I hardly spoke a word. I trusted myself to get wherever it was I was going.

    I carry all that with me now—that independent feeling—and that wasn’t always there before. There's “before the ride” and “after the ride” and I think, in the end, that’s what makes a ride of a lifetime.
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