I sat in the back of an antique Buick—yes, an early 1900s model—and felt the world around me transform. As the car rumbled down familiar streets, I couldn’t help but marvel at the perspective I had never seen before. These roads, which I drive every day, suddenly felt different, almost foreign. I looked out the window, imagining what life must have been like during the early 1900s, when this very car might have been the talk of the town, the epitome of luxury and progress. The world outside seemed to slow down, and I found myself transported to a time long past, where life was less hurried, more deliberate.
In that moment, I realized something: I had been driving these same streets for years, but I had never truly seen them until now. Life today is so full of distractions, noise, and constant motion that we often forget to appreciate what’s around us. We’re so caught up in the rush of modern life—always chasing the next thing, always looking for the next upgrade—that we miss the beauty of simplicity.
We’ve become a culture of “use it and lose it,” constantly upgrading our gadgets, our cars, our clothes, and our experiences. The minute something new comes along, we discard the old without a second thought. We crave instant gratification, a fleeting sense of satisfaction that is often short-lived, and in the process, we lose sight of the deeper, more meaningful things that can bring us true contentment. This culture of constant consumption, of striving for the next shiny object, has become toxic.
But as I sat in the back of that Buick, I couldn’t help but wonder: why can’t life be more like this? Why can’t we slow down and focus on the people who truly matter? Why can’t we savor the moments, instead of rushing through them? There I was, surrounded by good friends, not concerned with speeding through life or checking off a to-do list. I wasn’t worried about getting to the next destination, nor was I bothered by the cold that seeped into my bones (of course, it was raining, and the car was wide open!). I was just there, in the moment, present with the people who mattered most. These are people who I don't see as often as I wish, but they are apart of my life in such an important way.
I’ve always had a soft spot for antiques, for the timeless beauty of things built to last. Every time I see one drive by, I feel a pang of admiration for its craftsmanship and the history it carries. But that day, it was about more than just the car—it was about the experience, the connection, the simplicity of being with people who make you forget everything else. These are the days I’ve always dreamed of, where time slows down, and life feels a little more meaningful.
In the back of the Buick, I wasn’t thinking about my problems, my to-do lists, or the overwhelming weight of the world. I wasn’t concerned with what the next ten steps in life should be. I was focused on the next step—literally and figuratively. With those friends, I was able to lose myself in the moment, away from the pressures and expectations of everyday life. We were creating our own reality for the day, a world where the only thing that mattered was the laughter, the conversation, and the shared experience.
For the first time in a long while, I felt grounded. I felt truly at peace. It was a peace that came not from comfort, but from embracing discomfort and allowing myself to let go of the usual distractions. What makes this experience even more remarkable is that I was stepping out of my comfort zone in so many ways. I’m not one for attention, yet here I was, in a car that naturally draws stares and admiration. I’m not fond of being cold, yet I was content, wrapped in the chill because the joy I felt inside was so much greater than the discomfort outside. The list of little contradictions could go on and on, but what it boils down to is this: in that moment, I was home. I was reminded once again that the simpler things in life—the things we often overlook—are often the ones that bring the most peace and happiness.
So I ask you today: Where do you need simplicity in your life, like a trip back to the 1920s? Where can you step away from the constant distractions and focus on the people and moments that truly matter? And how are you going to make that happen? We don’t have to wait for the perfect moment to slow down. We can create those moments, no matter what century we’re in.
