1. Childhood: Captivated by the Sound of Japanese Taxis

The first time I fell in love with “transportation” was in elementary school. It started with the sound of taxis running through the city.

What left a particularly strong impression was the sound of the Toyota Crown’s 3Y-PE engine. The steady low hum during idling, the growling sound when accelerating—it resonated in my chest like a heartbeat.

“What is this sound? Why does it calm me so much?”

Thinking this, I began researching car models and looking up terms that were difficult for me to understand at the time. There was pure curiosity and fascination that no one forced upon me.

What might be “just a tool” for someone else seemed alive to me. Just the sound made my heart move. That was my origin.

2. Childhood: Loving Movement More Than Destinations

Looking back, since childhood, my eyes naturally gravitated toward “things in motion”—the shape of roads, passing trains, bus terminals, the flow of people.

Watching traffic jams at intersections, I wondered “Why does it get congested only here?” I memorized bus timetables, and was more drawn to actually cycling around than reading atlases or residential maps.

I watched “real cities” rather than encyclopedias or model trains. Because there, instead of manufactured answers, were “living structures” that constantly changed.

In other words, transportation wasn’t just functionality for me—it was an object of observation, and above all, something that moved my emotions.

3. Adolescence: Transportation as Life Choices

As a teenager without a license, I used bicycles and trains to go anywhere. Not limited to my local area, I “explored” the metropolitan area freely with a map in hand.

I didn’t want a destination. Rather, the “state of moving” itself had meaning.

At some point, I realized:

Most people find meaning in “reaching a destination.” But for me, “being in motion itself” was the purpose.

In an era before route-planning apps were common, I calculated the most efficient transfer routes by hand using paper timetables, playing with finding the fastest, shortest paths.

Even after entering society, I prioritized thinking about “how to get there” over “where to go.” The choice of transportation was essentially my behavioral principle and aesthetic sense itself.

4. Driving Became My Place

After getting my driver’s license, my “freedom of movement” changed dramatically.

However, the purpose of using a car wasn’t to pick someone up or carry luggage. Driving itself was the purpose.

When I gripped the steering wheel, the distractions in my mind gradually faded. Within the series of actions—running, stopping, turning—I could place my consciousness. The small space inside the car became like a meditation room.

“I feel anxious when stopped, and restless when not moving.” That’s the sensation I have.

Some people organize their thoughts by walking, but for me, that was “driving.”

5. What I’ll Share Going Forward—What Transportation Taught Me

This site “nakayamaken.com” was created as a place to talk more freely and personally about “transportation” that I’ve loved.

Changes in urban structure felt through taxi work, the gap between Showa and Reiwa transportation culture, the limits of car society, and insights gained by “keeping moving” as an individual.

I intend to write slowly and carefully about such topics on this site.

“Transportation” is not just infrastructure. It is an emotional crossroads that connects people, society, and time.

If anyone reading this thinks “Ah, I understand,” then this communication has meaning.

You don’t need a destination. For me, transportation is the “movement” towards it.