Tuesday, 14 December 2004 | Driven driver

I've been driven around a lot lately. It's not because my license is expired, even though it is.

Stuart drove me to the Verrazano Bridge, so that we could walk along the water (my hands clutching my upper arms for warmth) and trade details of the past few months. It wasn't his car, so we shared a specific excitement that only a sudden sense of independence can bring. Where should we go?! I had no idea. We ended up choosing the Verrazano Bridge because it's far away and normally quite remote.

Joel's walking with a crutch and has borrowed his father's car to get around this handicapped-unfriendly city until he can manage on his own again. While we were out connecting dots in Brooklyn and Manhattan, he told me that he has Chuck D's phone number programmed into his cell phone, which turned out to be even more exciting than the car ride itself. When we got lost in Bushwick, I suggested that we call Chuck for assistance, but Joel declined.

Last night, after riding in the back seat in thickish post-work highway traffic, Todd, Adam, and I criss-crossed Brooklyn and ended up in what Adam kept referring to as "suburbia"—giant hulking houses whose foreboding eagle and tiger yard statues silently shrieked, "Nouveau riche!" The topiary was trimmed in unnatural curves, and the streets were lined with sleek, expensive cars that I hadn't noticed until Adam pointed them out. He swears that the houses belong to members of the Mafia, which I suppose is believable enough.