The world was nothing beyond my headlights. Me and the road. Only an occasional flash of the white lines even reminded me they were there. Someone laid this black carpet. Someone tended it. Less than it needed. Less than it deserved.
I was headed nowhere and making good time. This land was not mine so it didn’t matter what I was missing. A few hours before the sun made me a smaller part of a much bigger canvas. Until then, it was me, a machine, and a world that knew as much about where I was as I did where I was going.
Driving is for the driven. I was alone and much better company than I have been for a long time. Fuck sleep. Up there was waiting for me. It didn’t know I was coming but it was waiting for me just the same. Breakfast at the end of my drive with folks who just started their day. New for me. Same old for them. I was the spice in their mix. They were the comfort in my meal. Three hours left for just me to move away from whatever and to whatever and be just right.
Night air is quiet and it calls to me real loud. Interstate. Real estate. No mistake. Three quarters of a tank of gas, money for breakfast, and no reason to disturb anyone at this time of night. Kansas is flat and, tonight, that is a good thing.
Breakfast was as expected. Eggs, coffee, and strangers. I am much better with strangers. The waitress was second, maybe third generation. One of those special beings where waitress is in the genes. She played to stereotype in her own style. Her gimmick was her crooked, Elvis-like, smile. The girl knew how to makes instant friends. Her secret ingredient was a sneer.
Coffee refills were quick exchanges. Little substance, lots of touch. She knew a diner type when she saw one. I played along. Spotted the regulars pretty quickly. The head nod, non-smiler acknowledged as he turned the page of his USA Today. He was mid-west right from central casting. The three older guys wondered where the completion of their foursome was. He showed up as I checked out. Norman Rockwell and Garrison Keller kissed a boo-boo on where did America go. It was right here any morning you pulled in. Sometimes partially there, always fully accounted for. The waitress wished me well knowing I would be headed out of town soon after dinner, if not before. Two blocks down she said. Shady Rest. Nice clean rooms, family run, and the best price in town. She knew I would say hi to Patty. I was the type. She had me in her radar before the eggs left their home.
I was good tired. Drove to the motel right through Back to the Future. Time warps still get to me. I ain’t afraid of what’s ahead. What’s behind can still look good all the same. If this wasn’t called Main Street, they screwed up. A nickel and a dime didn’t even cover the tax anymore but the hardware emporium still fit the bill. Hard to resist going in. They would have streamers as well as handle grips for my bike. A bike somewhere back then that moved with me as the true value of the same old stuff increased my self worth. I smiled from the inside and carried it into the motel office along with my car keys and a message from the waitress. Patty looked like I expected. My eyes was happy. Soon they were closed and deep in sleep.
I was up ten minutes before two, just in case. She knocked on the door ten minutes after two, just in time. Her kids got home at four so we got right to it.
She tasted like she just got off work. I sopped her up like Thanksgiving gravy. Every nook and cranny held a whimper and a moan. Each sound fed my hunger. She was my reward for passing through. I was her consolation prize for staying. I did my best not to represent him. She did her best not to resent him. Still he was there. We both wondered where he was and if he knew what he was missing. We both knew he did and it was still not enough for him to stay. For the moment, this was his loss so we both celebrated.
For just less than two hours, she loved me. I loved her. We spent too little time in that place where bad stuff looks away and good stuff joins the party. We both needed exactly what we each had to offer. We rode the first wave for as long as it lasted and surfed a few until life called us to other places. There weren’t many words exchanged. They weren’t needed.
I headed out of town before dinner. She was eating alone with her kids. Nothing in that town would taste right knowing that. A little bit of me stayed in that town when I headed East. A little bit of her left. Fair exchange.
She understood travelers. She just chose to stay home with the kids. She is that kinda good. Good for her. Good for them. Good for a lot more than she appreciates and most folks ever really understand. I could still taste her inside and out as Kansas shrunk. I smiled because, quite frankly, she tasted damn good.
I pulled off the Interstate just before the State Border. Needed smaller and slower things. Back roads slow me down. More about driving, less about thinking. So I headed North and eased through soft countryside and occasional hamlets. Small places known to those in them and but a few more. Places we blow by or pass through. We forget them either way. Needed to see them. Notice them. Let them know I was here.
My body felt the setting sun. Still visible, its shift would be over soon. The waitress was less than two hours behind me. Kids likely doing whatever it is she has them do between dinner and get to bed time. She had them to distract her. I had a few traffics lights and stretches of narrow roads. Distractions are a good thing sometimes.
Then there were fewer traffic lights. My own doing. A country road here. State road there. A country side, small time maze of who the fuck cares if this really goes anywhere. I just drove and turned without noticing, caring, or remembering. Dove into the process of driving. Let it own me. Consume me. Focused on the act. Danced the dance of the drifter. Turned down a road with limits and followed it to the end. Smithville. Not that it mattered. Roads like Paradise in name and solitude. Not that it mattered. Pulled off at a park. Clay County Park. Not that it mattered. None of it really mattered. Parked the faithful steed. Walked.
Everyone was home. All was quiet in Smithville. No pressure to keep up with the Jones. Folks were tucked into their after dinner routine. Twilight was almost here and the locals knew it. So did their park. Clay Country Park eased to night. When the only visitors ain’t there for the sights. It was too late for those that used the park as a park and too early for those that just came here to be in the dark. It was between. I walked a bit.
Walking normally soothes me. Calms me. Not tonight. Not even almost this almost tonight. Not by a long shot. Tried to sit. It didn’t work. Skipped some rocks. That didn’t work for long. Parks are places for the connected. Trimmed and kept and ready to comfort places for trimmed and kept and ready for comfort people. I was an outsider tonight. On the edge of wild abandon. Uncivilized. This was not my park. Not my place. Not my time. I did not belong here and the park helped me realize it. My joy was not in Smithville tonight.
Skipped one last stone and headed back to roads that went somewhere. Turned left when right was back to where I came from. Purposefully. Four lane roads with junk food and repetitive scenery were out there and I needed one of them. Headed West to get back on course. Kansas City was too big and this place was too small. Needed a place in plain site that nobody noticed. I needed a hot meal and a good night’s sleep at night time like real people with real lives. Another night in Kansas wouldn’t be that bad. Sometimes traveling means stopping at places longer than you expected.
I crossed back into Kansas without even knowing I left it. Fitting. Not even sure what state I was in. Kept on the four first four lane headed South and leaning West. Pulled into and out of a La Quinta. What the hell was that all about? If I wanted to sleep in the same room anywhere, I wouldn’t travel in the first place.
The sun ran out of steam before I did. Stopped at a place to eat. Not a diner. A generic, eat at one, eat at any restaurant for a generic eat one, eat any meal. It lived up to its promise. The crowd was cookie cutter. I was a cracker in this box of vanilla wafers. They didn’t make me feel unwelcome. They just didn’t notice me. An affront of the worst kind.
Ate quickly and found a room. More personality than the restaurant, less than I needed. The bed was comfortable though so I put it to use. Sleep was a good place to hide tonight. Alone in dreams is easier than alone in reality. An early start tomorrow might be just the cure for whatever the hell ate up my travel plans from the inside.
Woke in the middle of the night and reached more in habit than in need. She blocked me though so I punched the pillow and forced myself back to sleep. It was hard. Still, sleep won out.
The sun nudged me awake. Not the good waking. The mouth tastes like a war zone, really should just lay here a bit, kinda waking that begins the day on the inside of molasses. Went for a walk. Made it halfway across the parking lot and headed back to shower. Needed a fresh start. Needed cold water. Needed to feel right again. Time to hit the road. Headed to the room with the urgency of leaving it far behind. Didn’t really know it and didn’t care to. Needed billboards, asphalt, and stretches of nowherevilles that made you wonder what they hell they did with all this freaking corn. It was time to hit the road hard.
Pedal to the medal, the King for company, and the road was mine again. Time to make where I am where I was and head to where I need to be. Traffic accommodated. It was light to non-existence. The car knew it was time to run.
Music soothes my savage beast. Road time is church. I communed and felt better pretty quickly. Then the first Interstate sign showed. Did not like that twinge it induced. Did not like it all. Shifted in my seat. Turned up the music. Shook it off. Sang along with the best voice since……well, ever. Just me and him. A powerful duo, strong enough to resist any call of any highway no matter how smooth the ride.
Five miles to the Interstate. Knew I wasn’t going West. Didn’t want to head East. Wondered where this road went. Where did it go once I got past that Interstate bridge? Maybe South was the right thing today. Maybe. Three miles to go. Looked at the speedometer. Whoa, boy. Don’t need a speeding ticket right now. Don’t need to draw any attention to what I was chaspng or what was chasing me. Eased off the pedal and slowed down to just over. No big rush today. Felt good just to be in motion.
Elvis shifted gears. Slowed down right along with me. Loved the ballads. Loved the love songs. They said he could sing the phone book. Maybe they were right. He sure had my number. He was exactly right just about any time. Not right now though. Ballads ached and I didn’t need more ache. Two miles and I needed some alone time.
Breathed deep. Noticed the increase. More stuff. Leeches close to the main artery. More and more of the same the closer and closer the Interstate was. Soon, it was stop for lights, Wal-Mart, and drive through anythings. The overpass ahead was the draw. I looked at it as it went from up ahead to just behind. A few miles later, it lost most of its effect on the roadside. I still felt it though.
Music time. A bit more over the limit time so I eased the needle to 70. Seventy. The number of the Interstate that seemed to be ahead of me even though any map said otherwise. Elvis was in Vegas live. I was in Kansas lost.
It was a bit too early for lunch but that didn’t stop me. It was a Diner and it was time to stop. Sat at the counter and had a sandwich with fries. Had a shake, too. Chocolate. Comfort from the cocoa bean. The sandwich was alright. The fries hit the spot. The shake capped it all off. Normal was closer now. Maybe it was just hunger all along. Gnawing at those fries calmed whatever was eating me up.
They had one of the old-fashioned, kinda original, clocks that kept time safe in diners. Round. Simple and stark numbers. Outlined in neon. Sweep second hand that moved with glacial speed as fries were eaten by a mind on something other than how good they were. The minute hand inched past eleven and lunch moved to memory. The road called. A check. A tip. A look to my right and left as I headed North. Three hours, more or less. I pushed the pedal forward since less felt just about right.
The parking lot was afternoon empty. At quarter to two, the lunch bunch was fed and the dinner crew were hours away from hungry. I parked in plain site, got out, and leaned on the warm fender. Sometimes a guy just knows things. This was one of the times. I was comfortable in the moment and it showed for anyone that cared to looked. She would know it as soon as she looked. I knew it. That and a lot of other things.
Knew she would see me through the window before she did. Smiled and drank in her only slight surprise. Anticipated her look over the shoulder with the constellation of freckles as she looked at the same kinda diner clock to see how long before she walked to my car and me. It was sweet to witness it all the same. She formed ten minutes with her hands and I confirmed there was no rush with mine. All just like it ought to be. Already had the exact feel of her when she went from there to here and from her to we. Knew it because some things are meant to be and they will unfold just as they should, when they should. Today was the when. We were less than ten minutes from the exactly right way they were always meant to be.
When things are right, they are right. I didn’t book a motel room. Motel rooms are for travelers.
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