Learning to Drive
Published:
I only met uncle Jacques once. We were in Bathurst, on the shores of Atlantic New Brunswick. He had just left his second wife to get back together with his first. He was a fisherman. Our interactions were infrequent, unremarkable, and bordered on uncomfortable. But he told the tale of his last few months, and I was attentive. I was in Gaspé and drove straight down to Montréal, he said. An eight-hour trip, eyes on the road, lost in a dizzy focus. Beyond the destination, there was another. I drove to clear my head, to guide myself and stay on my tracks. When you drive, you’re forced to stay within your lane. Bound by a set of rules, confined to pre-existing models. Resisting, at all times, the call of the void. To steer off in one direction or another. I may have been paraphrasing – he did only speak French, after all. But I remember that metaphor still, as it finds its way back to me staring out the passenger seat window. As I am stopped at a red. As I turn at a bend. And it came to me yesterday, as I lived the near three hours of Drive My Car, Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s latest feature.