If I were asked to condense the whole of the present century into one mental picture I would pick a familiar everyday sight: a man in a motor car, driving along a concrete highway to some unknown destination … I think that the 20th century reaches almost its purest expression on the highway. Here we see, all too clearly, the speed and violence of our age, its strange love affair with the machine and, conceivably, with its own death and destruction.
Cars weirdly coffin-shaped; thinking about the death of distance, the impatience between points, and the necessity to kill intervening 'dead' time spent in transit