I lift my glass to those ‘good ole days’ when there wasn’t much to do but drive the gravel back roads, smoke cigarettes, and drink just about anything we could get our hands on. How we managed to survive it all is still a mystery to me.
My feet transfer the vibrations of tires touching gravel. The jarring shake of rut filled back roads move up my legs and out my arms then back into the steering wheel. I am in sync with my knobby tired, metal and glass steed as we speed through the perfect night.
The sky stretches out before me. A jeweled black velvet horizon surrounding a full moon that hangs brilliant; splashing a ghostly light into the countryside. The wood floors of ancient bridges rumble as I pass and the creeks and rivers catch the moon’s sparkle as they flow quickly beneath me and on into the darkness. The road comes alive for me while the rest of the world dreams. I move past cemeteries, where souls are frozen in place, longing for the freedom to ride along to oblivion. An old red barn built when the country was younger melts into its destiny. Brown brick grain silos stand godlike against the attack of time.
I roll down my window and let the cool night air blast away the anger, hate and dissolution that the sunlight brings. It mixes with the oven-like heater and I begin a dance with the night as the radio hums a low harmony and the soft glow from the dash lights mingle with it to create a perfect synchronicity.
These country back roads crisscross my path and stretch out into infinity. I travel through a landscape that is so satisfying and peaceful and I know that I am in control. I can choose my own destiny. Sometimes I think that if I just close my eyes and take my hands from the wheel, this could be…the end.