Most years, I think, are skippable. They suffer from this indescribable mundanity, this relentlessly oscillating day in day out. Those years you could summarise in a sentence or two. To say that 2014 was the best year of my life would be unfair to years 1997 through to 2013, and all the years that followed. But it was certainly the most memorable.
The tragedy of 2014 is that we were all so young, and youth is only enjoyed by those who are no longer. 2014 was a year that reminded me about life when I thought I needed an escape from it.
When I think of 2014, I see us in the back of a borrowed car. It’s nearing 2 in the morning. It smells like cheap wine, cigarettes, and single malt whiskey. The windows are rolled down, and they’re reluctantly letting in cool air. A Third Eye Blind song is playing. The wheels are spinning. On the other hand, we hardly seem to be moving at all. And what follows is the best conversation I’ll ever have.
Note: A Few Good Conversations (Well, At Least 10) contains some harsh language.