I took a deep breath and the smell of coming rain filled my lungs. My little Ford Escort was pointed west. I was so thrilled that I could fit everything I owned into the backseat. I was headed to Minneapolis to live with Brian, an Air Force buddy of mine. The plan was to live through a Minnesota winter and then head to California in the spring. I had spent the last four years traveling the world. It seemed a perpetual force was pushing me along. That is the way I was looking at it; twenty-four years old and I just wanted to keep pushing. I gazed towards the sky as it ripped wide open. The cool drops of rain ran off the ends of my hair and my face and the tips of my fingers.
I drove out past the spacious farms and empty space and began to climb into the mountains. Driving those twisting turns and the exaggerated ups and downs, I felt there had to be something special on the other side. I noticed the sweet smell of the mountain air; it was the cold air you could taste from your mouth to the bottom of your stomach.
I wanted to feel this air on my skin. I stopped in a small Virginia town named Reginald. There was a dark building on top of a hill with a plain sign that read, “diner.” I walked in to find checkerboard floors and plush, red, vinyl booths. It was dark and dusty and smelled like old grease. I liked this place instantly. I sat down and picked up the well-worn menu. I ordered a burger and sat back to try to soak it all in. I couldn’t help but smile at the big-bottomed waitress marching around the place, as content a waitress as I had ever seen. I imagined a farmer gathering up his family to go out for a special meal at the diner. The big waitresses would be in their pink and white uniforms flirting with the father. Meanwhile Momma would be dancing to the jukebox with little Johnny. Everyone would have smiles as big as can be. I was thinking of this simple life as my food arrived. The tastiest burger I had ever had. Stacked tall with plenty of grease. I left a big tip and walked out in love with the world.
I started out on my way down the mountain. Things started getting flatter and I was racing towards the vastness of the Midwest. I drove as the sun shone down on the green of Kentucky. The skies began to darken through Illinois and by the time I reached St. Louis, it was night.
I decided I’d had enough driving. I was going to check out downtown. I found a quiet street to park on and walked until I found a bar. It had a neon tiger in the front window. I ordered a pitcher and some potato skins from the bartender. There was a basketball game on the television and I lost my feel for time for a bit. I don’t recall anything extraordinary about the inside of the bar. It looked like any other sports bar in any other city, filled with local team posters and dartboards and pool tables. Booths were filled with all sorts of men drinking and laughing. I felt lonely for the first time on this trip. I was feeling drunk and tired. The road had worn me thin and the beer was about to knock me out.
I fell into the passenger seat of my car and tried to lay it back as far as I could. With a back seat filled with everything I owned, I couldn’t move it much. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and fell asleep fast and hard.
I woke soaked with sweat. It took me a moment to find my memory. It was only three hours later. I didn’t know where I was or why I was there. It was startling enough to send me back behind the wheel. I headed northwest through Missouri towards Iowa. I started thinking about the dream I had woken so suddenly from. I was starting a new job as a ferryboat pilot. I showed up for my first day and all my family and friends were there. It was great; I was taking them across a serene lake and everyone was grinning. Then I realized no one was speaking to me and the grins were actually grimaces. My passengers were beginning to yell and they were coming towards me with ropes and broken beer bottles. I was forced to dive into the lake that was now raging and the color of blood. As my head dipped below the crimson waves I saw the ferryboat mob staring, except where their eyes were supposed to be there were just empty sockets.
My head was buzzing. The tiredness was putting up a good fight, but there was no way I was giving in. I was pointed north; towards Minnesota. I leaned forward and gunned past the small highway towns as the sun’s glow appeared all around.
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