A pale hue blanketed the sky as the sunrise bled into the morning mist. The clock on the dashboard displayed 6:10; he had been driving for over two hours. By chance, he spotted a dirt road approximately five hundred feet ahead. A glance in the rear view mirror reflected nothing other than another dark, empty stretch of highway. Perfect, he thought. He gripped the wheel, veered right, and killed the headlights. The first signs of daylight offered enough of a glow for him to inch along through the thick grove of sagebrush. Then he brought the car to a halt.
“Recalculating, recalculating,” repeated the GPS’s nagging voice.
“Damn thing.” He hit the button to silence the stranger who shadowed his every move. The directions were uncomplicated. Straight across I-80 did not require the mile-by-mile instructions. Nevertheless, the GPS did offer a degree of companionship as he drove through the desolate state.
When he stepped out of the car, he hit a wall of frigid air. On instinct, he crossed his arms and hugged his body attempting to allay the cold temperature. Then he removed the duffle bag from the trunk and placed the bag in the back seat. In haste, he changed clothes while bravely ignoring the icy morning dew. Both the fresh clothes and the invigorating air prepared him for the next leg of his trip.
After resetting the GPS, he turned the car around and headed toward the highway. “Recalculating, recalculating,” repeated the no longer pesky but welcome voice. He drove for another two hours until the sun finally brightened the rear window.
Up ahead, he observed a sign that read, “Welcome to Mill City, Nevada,” and realized he had crossed the state border. Within minutes, another sign appeared. He was elated to see “Travel Centers of America” flashing on an inviting neon light. The fresh clothes partially helped, but as he took a whiff of his malodorous body he mused, I’m desperate for a shower. Without hesitation, he turned right into the parking lot and parked next to the “Fork in the Road Restaurant.” As if on cue, his stomach growled in relief.
Tucked away in the back booth in the corner he ordered the trucker’s special.
“Black or with cream and sugar, hon,” the first kind face of the day asked.
“Black, please.”
The coffee was satisfying as he waited for the sunny-side up eggs, sausage patties, hash browns, and dark toast; the only hot meal he had had in days. Moreover, the sensation of feeling free again—was overwhelming. Finally, with his hunger sated, he went straight to the Wi-Fi hotspot and began to tap away on his tablet to look for his next destination.
After a hot meal, a lukewarm shower, a full tank of gas, and a firm destination, he once again ventured out onto the long stretch of highway and headed west.