My car is my sanctuary. I spend so much time in it that it’s more like my home than any room could ever be.

Some people say that their body is their temple, but I gave up on that a long time ago — it’s way too fun to desecrate that thing.

In my car, there are no rules about how to keep it sacred. To me, it seems a little more holy with a bag of rotten Taco Bueno under the seat, three empty coffee cups on the passenger side and at least a fourth of my wardrobe in the trunk.

I do keep it sanctified in one traditional way, and that is the worship ritual of song.

The creators of the Mazda Protegé invented this little slot in the dashboard where you can just shove all of your CDs and prevent them from getting too scratched up. I like to blindly reach in there while driving and pull out whatever is on top, and then allow myself just to be one with the jam.

During these blessed moments, details such as accurate lyrics and safe driving never get in my way.

Totally one of those “It’s all about the journey, not the destination” type of things. This is maybe the only time it is OK to use that phrase.

Just like everything else in my life, I prefer to pretend that one day I am going to receive a DVD in the mail of my “Greatest Hits While Singing and Dancing in my Car.”

I don’t know how these people got the footage; all I know is that I have a well-produced 10-15 minute video of me getting down. And it is hilarious.

When I’m driving, if people happen to notice that I am full-on screaming some Arcade Fire like it is my anthem, then I just take the show up a notch, because it is just awkward to acknowledge them.

Of course stoplights are a different animal. Depending on the level of obscenities in the song and the number of minors in the car next to me, I either stare directly at them and thrust my body accordingly or move straight on to the inappropriate gestures.

When I reach my driveway or a parking spot at Target, I try to wait and let the song finish, otherwise you get back in the car and really embarrass yourself with a loud blast of Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy.”

I try to make a devotion to the car god every day, but if I can’t swing that, I make a good scene while walking to school and listening to Cee Lo Green.

May the good lord bless my vehicle and keep the sweet sounds of Top 40 radio comin’.

In Mazda’s name I pray, amen.

— Caitlin Turner, letters senior