08: The Virtuous Lie

 An injurious truth has no merit over an injurious lie.

Mark Twain, On The Decay Of The Art Of Lying

Nearly every drive I’ve made is based on a virtuous lie. I tell myself, “I will drive myself to this place because I must do this thing in this place and this way.” How often is that true? I may have been honest at the moment, but I’m not sure it was the truth behind my choice.

I used to own a T-shirt that read, “I’m sorry I’m late; I didn’t want come.” The shirt’s message is more honest than I am comfortable admitting.

Yes, I drove because I had to go to work. Yes, I drove because I had to see my parents. Yes, I drove because I had to visit a client. Yes, I drove to see you.

These are all honestly what I had to do. But if I took a step back, I didn’t have to make many of those drives. I wasn’t driving because it was what I truly wanted to do, but I drove out of duty or obligation or responsibility or shame or anxiety or for fitting in.

…or for money. Apparently, my virtue can be bought.

Sometimes I drove to avoid the very same duty or obligation or responsibility or shame or anxiety. I often drove to avoid the discomfort of feeling or experiencing loneliness, grief, isolation, rejection, or confusion.

I realize that perhaps I bought the convertible, not simply for the sunshine and joy, but to make the virtuous lie of why I am driving to this or that place more enjoyable.