The highway becomes your friend at sixteen and at seventeen it’s no different; your source of freedom, even for a short amount of time.
Twenty minutes speeding down that pavement can feel like an eternity of endless opportunities. Behind the wheel you'll feel nothing but endless hope.
Your chains are gone and replaced with glorious wings.
You always dreamed of flying.

“I’m tired of the same routine. I’m tired of the same faces. Lonely Ohio does no good to a spirit that’s been broken and a heart that’s been bent. So I'll take this fast lane until I find solace.”

Suddenly you're eighteen, freedom has new meaning. Blaring music and windows down, still in search of that invisible solace.
That highway has become your best friend through the days.

You hit the brakes and blink, nineteen and twenty never seemed so confusing.
Your mind feels like a traffic jam, red tail lights blinding you as you hope for an opening to escape and speed away.
Your wings are damaged, flying is impossible for the moment,
But given time, they'll heal and freedom will be easy again.
You're still free…in a way.
Flying is just harder.

Then suddenly you're twenty-one and screaming along to the songs that made you sad, made you angry and made you happy.
Lyrics put your thoughts into words.

Those songs seem to unfold your past right before you, unraveling until the lonely and faithful highway is coated with memories.

You've found solace, not in another state, but in your mind.
Everything is different, but everything is good.