Like many who have loved and left New York City, I dearly miss the transportation setup there. The walkability, the trains, the buses—there's not another town in the U.S. where you can do so much (and get so far) easily and without needing a car of your own. Though my 16-year-old self would have scarcely believed it, those years on the subway convinced me of the superiority of life without a car. Even though I look back fondly at my days as a straphanger, my return to the driver's world has reminded me of an undeniable truth: Riding around in the car while blaring music you love is the absolute shit. Few pleasures in life can match the joy I feel when I plop into the driver's seat, queue up an album, pull out of the driveway, and embark on a medium-length drive while shouting lyrics and mangling melodies. The bliss of bobbing my head and contorting my face, throwing around my hands and popping my shoulders, lets me attain that uninhibited state otherwise reserved for when I'm certain nobody is watching... or when I'm too inebriated to care. I don't think it's a coincidence that I’ve been listening to way more music since leaving NYC. There, podcasts seemed like a more fitting soundtrack to my daily commute, due to the sonic inferiority of my cheap earbud headphones and my self-conscious refusal to come off like an especially terrible Showtime act if I grooved to my music there the same way I do in private. I can't say that my rekindled passion for listening to new music in the car is an even trade for walking or riding the subway instead of driving. But it does come pretty damn close.

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