Driving Through, Driving Toward

I am surprised by how many gatherings can be transformed into drive-in/drive-through activities.  The most famous example might be Joe Biden's rallies, where people honk their support.

During my great southeastern driving tour, as I was driving and tuning into various radio stations, I heard ads for drive in Halloween festivals, both the harvest kind and the haunted house kind.  It reminds me of the huge light displays that most communities now offer at Christmas.  

I also heard about how the South Carolina State Fair will be a drive through, with the quilts, livestock, pies, produce in one part of the fairgrounds and fair food in another.  No rides, of course.  The price for admission:  free!   I saw one Facebook post that seemed to say that the line for fair food was almost as long as the line for early voting.

My church does drive through communion.  Our pastor sanitizes his hands between each car.  Each wafer comes in a plastic bag and the wine in a tiny plastic glass--our pastor hands each element to the parishioners in the car.  Usually about 20 people drive through.

As our South Florida weather shifts, we're planning to have outdoor worship services for Advent.  The weather is so iffy that I would prefer to have drive up and park services.  I'd rather stay in my car, where there's shelter from the rain, heat, and bugs.

I've been thinking about how little I'm driving at night these days.  In past years, I knew which houses would have festive lights in the evening--I'd take note as I drove home from evening meetings.  This year, I only know which houses in my neighborhood have festive lights if they leave them on overnight so that I can see them during my early morning exercise.

I've been using that to my advantage.  There's one house that's put orange bulbs in the spotlights, and those spotlights showcase inflatable jack-o-lanterns and an inflatable ghost or two.  I love the way it looks, so each morning, I decide to do a 3 mile run, instead of a 2 mile walk.

This morning we drove through flooding streets to take our ballots to the early voting location.  As we parked the car, I said, "Let's go save the democracy."  Because we had mail-in ballots, we got to go to the front of the line to drop them off in the secure box beyond the door.  In August, the secure box was outside of the building.  I was glad that the secure box was not by way of drive through--and I'm sure that the election officials had thought that through and realized that having cars near the polling place was a bad idea.

And now to keep an eye on the flooded streets--I still plan to go to work, but it makes no sense to leave when the roads are in this condition.  At least, it makes no sense to leave this morning.

In terms of the larger question of when it makes the most sense to leave--still to be determined.