Thursday is my day to drive. I run to my car in a rush after texting my two friends that I am on my way.
During the 15-minute drive to their homes, I drive the radius of my — our — entire childhoods.
I drive by the elementary and high school we all went to. I go by the park where I jumped off a bench and now, I carry the memory as a scar on my chin, and I see the ICBC where I got my driver's license all before leaving Surrey to get to UBC.
If it’s the early morning, whoever gets the backseat will splay out for a nap — complete with a blanket and pillow. When there is an accident, all three phones are working on the best route to get to school before our classes start, and we cut through backstreets none of us knew existed.
Once we arrive on campus, we part ways. I won't see them until we have to go home.
But within the car, there is time to catch up on the previous night's events or vent about the day's exhaustion.
Our cars have witnessed swiping through Hinge profiles and collectively gasping at awful prompts, catching up on family drama, coaching each other for dates and reassuring one another after a bad exam while a never-ending stream of music flows from the speakers.
Sometimes, it's loud enough to block out our own voices. Occasionally, we follow themes — boy bands, Bollywood or classic throwbacks. Sometimes, it's background noise to a conversation or a gossip session. Other times, it's the only noise in the car when we’re too tired to verbalize our 8 a.m. thoughts.
The foundation of my university experience hasn't been campus itself, but the car ride there.
I spent my last minutes as a 19-year-old racing down SW Marine Drive with my friends, singing One Direction songs in the hopes we would make it to Spanish Banks before the clock struck midnight.
I've watched the leaves bloom green, wilt yellow and grow again through car windows. And sometimes, I wonder if I've opened up more in these drives to them than in the past decade of our friendship.
I've known them all before I knew who I was, and they've seen me through it all.
We've traversed the same route so many times that it has all started to blur together, but every trip is unique with its own story.
By the time I drop them off and return home, it's usually past 9 p.m., and I throw myself into bed, exhausted but looking forward to waking up tomorrow and doing it all again.
There will be more to talk about, or we will simply keep each other company while we cruise through cities with the speakers blaring. Whatever it may be, I know that once we graduate this type of constant proximity will be lost, but while it lasts, I’ll savour the limited car rides we have left together.