On these long stretches of road, it feels like I stop at a gas station to fill up every couple of hours. They all start to look the same after a while.
The people at them are all predictable, if there's people at all.
Utah is a desolate place in the long stretches. Beautiful to be sure, but a real wasteland.
The heat radiates off of the walls of these red rocks.
I fill up the tank at a texaco, wearied after my long days of travel.
Maybe I should go back home. "Go back," I think. But what if I have no back to go back to?
Suddenly the rumble of a car bounces off of the walls of these canyons. A blue thunderbird rumbles onto the scene and into the gas station. Two women wearing denim shirts, headscarves, and aviator sunglasses get out quickly to fill up their panting car.
I'm instantly intrigued. The road sure does bring all kinds of people.
"What part of town are you guys from?" I ask.
One of them looks up at me and gives a big smile. "Well," she says, "We're not from these parts, originally." She has an accent - maybe Texan.
The other one snaps at her, "Thelma! We don't have the time. Come on!"
Thelma, apparently, says, "Oh all right, Louise!"
She looks at me with comic apology in her eyes and shrugs her shoulders: "Sorry!"
I wave my hand as if to say that it is nothing. The women get back into their car and zoom off.
I wish my life were more interesting. It seems like those two are bound for adventure, and full of story. And here I am holding the gas nozzle in my hand. I've got miles and miles left to go, and no one to share them with.
The people at them are all predictable, if there's people at all.
Utah is a desolate place in the long stretches. Beautiful to be sure, but a real wasteland.
The heat radiates off of the walls of these red rocks.
I fill up the tank at a texaco, wearied after my long days of travel.
Maybe I should go back home. "Go back," I think. But what if I have no back to go back to?
Suddenly the rumble of a car bounces off of the walls of these canyons. A blue thunderbird rumbles onto the scene and into the gas station. Two women wearing denim shirts, headscarves, and aviator sunglasses get out quickly to fill up their panting car.
I'm instantly intrigued. The road sure does bring all kinds of people.
"What part of town are you guys from?" I ask.
One of them looks up at me and gives a big smile. "Well," she says, "We're not from these parts, originally." She has an accent - maybe Texan.
The other one snaps at her, "Thelma! We don't have the time. Come on!"
Thelma, apparently, says, "Oh all right, Louise!"
She looks at me with comic apology in her eyes and shrugs her shoulders: "Sorry!"
I wave my hand as if to say that it is nothing. The women get back into their car and zoom off.
I wish my life were more interesting. It seems like those two are bound for adventure, and full of story. And here I am holding the gas nozzle in my hand. I've got miles and miles left to go, and no one to share them with.
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