Sunday, April 10th, 2016:
It’s the final day of the Democracy Spring march that began in Philadelphia 9 days ago. We’re going to be arriving in D.C. later that afternoon. At our morning rendezvous, one of my fellow marchers hands me his car keys.
“I want to march today, can you drive support?”
“I’d love to! Which car?”
“The Denali over there.” I glance to where he’s pointing, then do a double take and look at him like he’s crazy.
“That big truck?! I’ve never driven anything larger than a small SUV.”
“You’ll be fine. I trust you.” He pats me on the back and walks off, leaving me nervously holding the key to someone else’s very nice truck.
Okay, Tara. You can do this. You’ll be able to take it nice and slow since you’re driving along with the marchers.
I hoist myself up into the truck, see an auxiliary cable, and instantly pull out my iPod. I put it on a dance playlist, adjust the seat and mirrors, buckle up, roll down the windows, and put the truck in drive. I very slowly pull out of the parking lot, panicking slightly when I bump a curve, but then I’m on the road. Everything is intact, and this gigantic truck is actually easy for me to maneuver. Who knew?
Prince’s 1999 starts playing, and I turn it up as I drive past the marchers, waving and cheering them on.
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