In all friendships, there is always the designated driver and the perpetual passenger. But our relationship is not complete without Brenda. 

She has been with us in 7 a.m. silence, 12 p.m. lunch breaks and 9 p.m. parking lot debriefs. But, like all cars, her contribution ends once we’ve made it from Point A to Point B. 

That is the thing about traveling by car. It will always serve as a transition period. You only ever get in a car so that you can leave it, and you are always looking at the road ahead rather than within the four doors. Given that, it makes sense the first time we truly connected was during a car ride home, a transitional phase in our lives both literally and metaphorically. 

As we became upperclassmen and focused more on our academic goals, we could not help but constantly think about the future. 

For two overzealous and ambitious sophomores, Brenda became a representation of our need to constantly stay ahead of the curve. The car, like all the extracurriculars and higher level classes we chose to be in, was just a tool. 

When we needed a last-minute study session or to rush from one activity to the next, we immediately turned to Brenda. At the time, our high school experience was defined by all our hard-earned grades, scores and leadership positions.

Though now, after fulfilling our goals, what sticks out are not the destinations Brenda took us to, but the moments we shared during the car rides. The memories we cherish most as seniors are the ones we had once deemed inconsequential. 

We cannot tell you a single detail about the movie we watched the first time we hung out, but we can tell you every word of the conversation in the car afterwards. We cannot tell you where we were headed when Joyce opened her college acceptance, but we do remember the screams of joy as we pulled over. We cannot remember the speeches at the end-of-year Torch Banquet, but we still feel the weight of the bittersweet goodbyes we cried over on the drive home. 

Now that the journey is over and we have locked the doors behind us, we wish we had not let our goals become our lives. Success is always sweet, but we will always carry the regret of not lingering in the car for a few moments longer. 

A year from now we will be 2,029 miles away from each other, no longer living a minute’s drive apart. We will have new friends, new goals and new modes of transportation. While as determined as ever, we are entering this new chapter of our lives by being more conscious of how we spend our time. Instead of living in the shadow of our ambitions, we will learn to appreciate each moment like how we view our times spent in the car. 

No matter how important your dreams are, it will be so much more worthwhile to look back at the rearview mirror and be able to enjoy the view rather than immediately chasing the next green light.