Dear Neil,
Waffle House makes food for the hungry. Sometimes in life, we are given food, but we aren't hungry. Sometimes, we are given answers but we aren't seeking. This summer, for me, has been focused on not feeling, tasting, not touching, not seeing. It has been an attempt to not experience.

Yesterday, I was given a driver's license by the state of South Carolina's Department of Motor Vehicles. Frankly, I wasn't expecting to pass the test in the first place. I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do now, since my family doesn't have an extra car for me to use and I leave for college in less than a week. In suburban America to be 18 years old and not have a drivers license is a stain on one's character. I just wish there were mass transit so I could get away with my terrible sin. A car is not as so few think a means to get from point A to point B. A car is a reflection of one's self-image.

I am independent. I can go anywhere by myself. I am master of my fate. In my blue 1987 Honda Civic, I am invincible.

Yesterday, I paid $12.50 in order to feel validated. My self-worth is dependent on a piece of plastic in my pocket that has my picture on it.

Neil, I'm sure you can relate to all I am saying. Hopping around the dusty surface of the moon must suck compared to the thrill of driving a moon buggy, bouncing over every crater, flying past meteorites, leaving tracks that will persist for thousands of years. I've discovered something about myself. Alone, I drive like a drunk. I swerve wildly and randomly accelerate, just enjoying the thrill of a lonely road. My brother told me before I got my license that you drive different when you're alone. Then, the thought hit me; you can't ride with a person who is driving alone. Like the stupid koan about a tree falling in the forest, you can't be with someone as they drive by themselves.

Every car on the road contains at least one immortal human soul.

A human being was born, the result of some man somewhere ejaculating, and this human being grew and grew until finally it got itself a car.

Every car on the road was a major purchasing decision for someone.

Whether they got it cheap from their cousin Vinny or they decided to splurge. They decided they had found the right car at the right cost in the right color. Even the avocado green Vega which is going too slowly in the right lane.

Above: Artist's representation of Waffle House®.

So with my found power and ability, what did I do? I drove home with my mom and continued sitting around the house as I have all summer. Then, sometime after dinner, I had a brilliant idea. My first drive by myself, it should be to Waffle House. So, I waited until Conan was over and walked outside and took the oversized go-kart out on the road. It was dark and rainy. The radio presets were still scrambled from when the battery died during my driving test that afternoon. But the roads were clear and I was doing something new, something different. I parked the car, remembered to turn off the headlights, stopped the car, got out, locked the door, and faced my goal. Waffle House, an establishment that has locks on its doors only to stop looters in cases of emergency evacuation. The ham and cheese sandwich was good and the jukebox played familiar country music. I wrote on a napkin to pass the time. I thought about life and this summer, my goals for it and such. Other than failing to see Face Off and The French Connection everything on my to-do list was accomplished now. Yet, something was lacking this whole summer long-- experiences. Waffle House food is greasy and rich and made for people who want to know they have eaten. I thought about that and how I had done things this summer but all the while remained aloof. I saw time as a conveyor belt, dragging me forward as long as I don't jump off. I just sat and watched as life passed outside my eyes. Maybe that was what was wrong. Maybe I need to stop watching and start doing. Maybe…

Yesterday, I paid $12.50 in order to feel validated. My self-worth is dependent on a piece of plastic in my pocket that has my picture on it. Still, maybe I can use my independence, rise above the path of least resistance, and do something. Maybe I paid $12.50 for a revelation. Maybe I paid $12.50 to feel better about myself. Maybe I paid $12.50 so I can keep from having another boring summer next year. Who knows?