Driving on empty roads

There's bliss in being cocooned within a car that's gliding along empty, uncongested, well-made roads. The road stretches ahead like a promise, unbroken by traffic or pothole politics. If you're driving, the steering wheel feels lighter, the accelerator more responsive. The car itself is grateful for the freedom.

The hum of the engine syncs with your heartbeat, the tyres whisper against the asphalt, and the buildings on each side quietly cheer you on. Even the air seems fresher, untainted by fumes or honking horns.

Then there's the symmetry you start noticing: roads tapering into lanes, curves bending into thoroughfares, flyovers taking off under you vehicle minus any of the obstacles that make your usual journey. You lean back, and the world outside becomes a moving canvas - buildings, structures, foliage flowing past in cinematic ease.


The bliss lies not in speed but in serenity. To drive on such roads is to reclaim time, rediscover modernity. You become a true travel-ler, carried forward by a road that seems to exist solely for your joy.