Oooookay. I’m sensing a theme here.
Author: hearseeno
Ooops.
DEAN! Don’t stand on that chair! Don’t you know that’s dangerous. You could fall and break your neck!
Loooook at all those flowers.
Crazy-eyes
Sam’s wearing a yellow-checked shirt, too.

Who’s in the driver’s seat?

The Impala is often a stand-in for Dean’s soul, and I’m not the first person to draw this parallel between the bloody handprint on the car’s window and the scar on Dean’s shoulder.
I’m also not the first person to comment that every driver in this episode reflects something about Dean.
What I would like to comment on is that each driver reflect on the journey taken by Dean’s soul and who has had the charge of directing its course.


Here we have young, joy riding Jessie. The soul is not hers. But her job is to ferry it to a place where it rests and waits, and she expects to be paid for her efforts.

Dean’s soul has not just seen it’s share of reapers, but a monster has been behind the wheel, as well. Is he a man? Is he a monster? When he looks in the mirror, what will he see?

And here the most poignant of all.
John Winchester in the driver’s seat, directing any and all choices Dean made. He did his best, “anyway, for what it was worth.” But still, his legacy is still played out today. He “played [his] part” in setting them on the path that takes Sam and Dean to this point.
Dean, the man that John Winchester made and then sent out into the world.
What choices will Dean make? Who will be in the driver’s seat? Will Sam still be “Sam,” not “Samuel” and not John’s “son”?

We’re all in the car. I’m sitting in the driver’s seat, Dad’s sitting shotgun. But there aren’t any shotguns. There’s no monsters. There’s no hunting. There’s none of that. It’s just… He’s teaching me how to drive. And, uh, I’m not little like when he actually taught me how to drive. I’m 16, and he’s helping me get my learner’s permit. Of course, you’re in the backseat, just begging to take a turn. We pull up to the house, the family house, and I park in the driveway, and he looks over and he says, “Perfect landing, son.”
The dream isn’t just about having a home and something more, it’s also about the longing for what wasn’t. It’s about grieving the fantasy of the family that you wish you had had, the one you needed. The one that let you be in the driver’s seat of your destiny, but was there with you, guiding, mentoring, and giving you praise for a job well done. It’s about letting it go, and taking a firm grasp of the wheel and setting your own path.

Send me to Mars with party supplies before next august 5th
No guys you don’t understand.
The soil testing equipment on Curiosity makes a buzzing noise and the pitch of the noise changes depending on what part of an experiment Curiosity is performing, this is the way Curiosity sings to itself.
So some of the finest minds currently alive decided to take incredibly expensive important scientific equipment and mess with it until they worked out how to move in just the right way to sing Happy Birthday, then someone made a cake on Curiosity’s birthday and took it into Mission control so that a room full of brilliant scientists and engineers could throw a birthday party for a non-autonomous robot 225 million kilometres away and listen to it sing the first ever song sung on Mars*, which was Happy Birthday.
This isn’t a sad story, this a happy story about the ridiculousness of humans and the way we love things. We built a little robot and called it Curiosity and flung it into the star to go and explore places we can’t get to because it’s name is in our nature and then just because we could, we taught it how to sing.
That’s not sad, that’s awesome.
*this is different from the first song ever played on mars (Reach For The Stars by Will.I.Am) which happened the year before, singing is different from playing

Someone took a ninja-shot while I was in line. XD
(photo by Imajanation Productions)