So it's festival-time again.
Going to Hultsfred this year is a five-hour car trip with my Finnish-Swedish friend Teija. We start out at noon from a rather sunny Stockholm on a day when a lot of pre-highschoolers seem to be graduating.
While waiting for her to show up, I'm thinking it could turn out to be a long trip. Since my U.S. road-odyssey in 2000, I haven't spent that much time in any vehicle save for planes, trading the road for the skies. Two summers ago, the prospect of five hours on the road felt like nothing, a trip I could hold my breath through. I've gone, perhaps, a bit soft.

So, Teija arrives in her green Toyota. Blonde-ish in slipper shoes, tanned and with purple sunglasses, she looks well and trendy, and I'm thinking I've led a shut-in life the past six months or so, between school and my computer. Nonetheless, I'm all set, and it's time to go.

Going by car through this country I realize, is good. It's summery now, the roads are long and warm. We speak a little of older days and lost loves - inevitably, I guess, since we haven't met for so long, and before I know it we're out of town, with fields and forests on both sides.
Seeing these faces of Sweden is good for me, I think. After the winter I'm reminded of the good things waiting to be discovered.
And we go fast. At 130, 140 and then 150 kilometres an hour, I get a little surprised, speed-blinded as I am, but Teija is a pretty good and stable driver, as far as I can tell. This is good, since in the continued absence of my license, she will be doing all the driving.

As we go on we talk about betrayals and people found out not to be worth our time. I tell her how I feel lucky in a way. Although of course not always having gotten the ones I've sought after, my heart, when I consider it, feels intact. It has not been chewed up, broken or trod upon.
I have been lucky in my deals of attraction, maybe. Those for whom I've fallen, when not having felt the same way, have always, more-or-less, treated me kindly, and done things for me that I wouldn't always have expected them to. And as far as I know, I haven't been cheated on.
I tell her this, and she says those things are pretty shitty to deal with. She knows, and I'm familiar with it only in vague terms, and think that maybe the topic needs relaxation.

It seems to be much later, about half an album into The Rasmus (Finnish powerpop, mostly in English), when I close my eyes for a second, and drift off. It was an early morning for me, after two hours of sleep, at best, and the always-rolling road has a tiring effect. I wake up 20 minutes later when a song in their native language kicks in, as if I'd been listening in my sleep.
Still, I feel a lot more brisk, and think of what I've read about microsleep in chairs, dozing off until an object you were holding falls to the floor and wakes you up.

We're coming up on Linköping now, where we're picking up Ronnie, my old, old IRC-brother. It's been a long time since I saw him, too. Feels as if it's been a long time since I saw anyone of my IRC-friends. I spot him easily enough, though - at about my height and probably 20 extra kgs, he's always the easiest one of us to spot in the festival crowd. He looks about the same, and it's good to see him. A slight rain starts out over Linköping as we go for some food (Hamburgers), before heading off again.

Once on the road again we've covered a good deal more than half the distance, but we're slowing down. The sky is all dark grey now, and the rain comes down pretty fiercely for awhile. A truck passes us by at one point, sending enough water our way to completely cover the windshield for a second or so. Teija hits the brakes - never any real danger I guess in retrospect, but being the inexperienced driver I am, I start covering my head with my arms, in some way getting ready for an impact, before noticing visibility being back again.
In all it takes us about 20 minutes to drive clear of the rain, hoping it's on its way north. I haven't seen a lot of storms like this in Sweden - as far as I know, the weather over here usually takes a bit of time to change.

The rest of the trip being smooth enough, we arrive at Thomas's house in Hultsfred around 18:00. It's the fifth time I'm here, and although it should be noted I've never visited when there wasn't a festival here, I always get the same feeling upon arrival. The small town seems silent and tense, waiting, getting ready for the festival to start.