Driving a solar car

There is a peculiar mix of terror and boredom that comes from driving a solar car.

The first few miles are exciting, especially on a new car. There's that great new car smell, and you get to play around with the dynamics and steering of the car.

The next few miles just feel like the beginning of a road trip. You're still fresh and alert, the day is young, and holy crap it's a solar car.

Half an hour later you are much less excited. You wriggle around, trying to find a better way to sit, and you inevitably turn the steering wheel a tiny bit. You correct instantly, but not fast enough: chase saw the swerve and calls out "chase solarcar, watch your lane." You find a comfortable position and settle in for another three hours of driving.

In another hour or so, you are bored out of your mind. You sang out loud until you realized that it's too loud to even hear your own voice. You conjugated verbs in Latin and Russian and Spanish. You pretended you were flying a spaceship and shooting down enemy ships. You've tried every possible seating position. There are still two hours left.

An hour later you're still bored, but the boredom is tempered by terror. You're sleepy and tired. You haven't even noticed the scenery passing because you were so focused on staying between the lines. You are sick of hearing "watch your lane" from chase. What else could you possibly be watching?

For the next forty-five minutes you are hyper-focused. Nothing would be worse than driving this car off the road. You blink constantly and sweep your eyes left to right. You watch for the little green signs every ten kilometers that tell you how far you have to go before your shift ends. Every time you pass a sign you do the same math over again, converting speed and distance into time left in the box.

The last fifteen minutes are agonizing. Driving into the control stop is a relief. The vibration finally stops and you can close your eyes for a long moment. You unclip your radio, undo your seatbelt, and make sure you're not leaving anything in the car. Then you open the door and bail out as quickly as possible, taking care to not shade the array.

When you get out somebody hands you a sandwich and a water bottle. You take off your helmet and shrug your shoulders to loosen them. You drink, you eat, and suddenly you feel human again.

At the end of the control stop you jump into an air-conditioned car and listen to music while you watch the world go by. After half an hour you feel ready to drive again. After all, what's better than driving a solar car?