175,000 miles

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There are 175,000 miles on this SUV. They are a patchwork of youth services and conventions and district councils and meetings. They are small measure of my boss’s commitment to his work.

I have spent 100s of miles in this back seat, my shoes kicked off, my feet tucked underneath me, nestled in the leather upholstery.

Tonight, the heater hums and indicators on the dash glow in warm orange tones. From the each overpass we cross, I watch as the roofs of buildings coast by, the lights pinned on their corners blurring together.

This is one of those times that the structure of our organization becomes less hierarchical, and more like that of a family. My boss’s rich baritone voice adds harmonies to the Beatles songs lilting from our CD player. My co-worker giggles and asks questions she knows will lead to stories. My boss teases me at the unexpected chime of my phone. I close my eyes and tilt my head against the door jam, listening to the murmur of their voices.

Somehow, this doesn’t seem like the typical job that requires obligatory travel. Instead, each trip is an adventure. Each journey is a chance to dream. Each highway is doorway to our future growth.

The miles tick by, one after another, clocking the first of another 175,000.


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