I think I do. I love this idea.
Granted it’s dangerous, but of course I would never use it while driving—only while stopped at a gas station or parking lot getting ready for the next leg of the journey. I commute an hour each way, on days that I teach, and run lots of errands and a do occasional weekend road trips. So I like my car to be as “homey” as possible. My husband installed a CD player in the trunk (my little VW Beetle offers no other space for it), and my kids gave me a cassette converter that plugs into my iphone, so I can listen to music and audio books as I drive. I’ve got a nifty new travel mug—porcelain with a rubber top—a gift my son brought back from his trip to check out some California colleges. He knew just what I’d like, and found a mug short enough to fit in the tiny space my Bug allows above the cup holder. Now I’ve got practically all the comforts of home.
I once heard Pico Iyer (author of many books, including The Global Soul: Jet Lag, Shopping Malls, and the Search for Home) refer to his journal as a type of home. And I’ve experienced that: the “at home” comfort of being able to express myself on paper that no one else will care to read, the hospitality of blank pages willing to hold everything. A space for words to be, for my soul to be.
And a car is a place to be. As long as I need to spend so much time there, why not really inhabit the space?
Home is where your coffee maker is.
Would you agree?