Just beyond the turn, you could see the smoke-stacks. The highway twisted and turned the full way through the mountain leg of the trip. It’s been two days and it feels like we covered no distance. The car itself, this vessel, becomes an extension of ourselves. After several miles, we cared for its well-being more then we did our own.
The smoke-stacks are from an old power-plant, nestled between the mountains and the foothills. Once we cleared this section, the road opened up.
Night driving is the worse. Headlights clear the road. You can see us from miles away, floating through the night. The dashboard lights-up out tired faces; eyes scanning the road for a place to rest and recharge.
It was late at night when we arrived. The motel, standard two floors, poorly lit walkways with doors and windows facing on oversized parking lot, stood mostly empty. We got the room on the main floor.
In the morning, we noticed the restaurant was closed and only one vending machine was working. We took what we could get and left early.
Mountains are behind us now. The rolling hills turn bright yellow in a blistering sun. No structures to be seen, no trees only open fields — your mind start to wonder.
We’re no longer floating. Just beyond the visual field — over the shoulder, the hard truth. A stack of belongings, remnants, packed indiscriminately, shoved into the trunk and the back seat. Things we can’t replace, everything else was left behind.
We’re driving slow, buoyant on one-lane road. The scenery passes by as time burns away with the setting sun. The rattling from the back gets louder — the jewelry box came loose. This little box, packed with sentiments, now thumping around in out trunk.
The car tugged hard right. Sudden panic followed by disbelief. Last mile and it’s a flat tire. This car, a heavenly vessel, a chariot taking us to new beginnings, now wretched and cursed.
Our things, spread neatly between the highway and the ditch, are slowly put back. The spare, which was located on the bottom of the trunk, is now replaced by the defective tire.
We arrived in the middle of the night, limping and tired, barely remembering the journey and the jewelry box left behind someplace along the highway.
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PRAIRIELAND
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Undercover
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Transition