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The ashy black rolled beneath him as the tires droned to the beat of movement. The sun dredged itself across the endless sky. The horizon was a constant range of mountains, giving way to more spiked horizons. Every now and then, rodents would dash across his path in a frenzied cluster of movement that tugged a primal urge to survive. In between those now and thens, he would spot the corpse of a failed survival attempt and his heart would pay a small tribute to the life lost.

His feet absorbed the vibration of the engine through the clutch and gas as his ears relished the constant rumble of the exhaust. His right hand married the subtle violent movements of the shifter as his left extended from the steering wheel through the tires and into the pavement. It is in this zone where his consciousness achieves a transcendental expansion. He sits in the seat as if a swami on a hilltop making only the neccesary movements, painting the road with the vehicle as a painter brushes a canvas.

It is an artform to him, precognition of the drivers’ actions that he would soon blur by, coaxing the engine into a blurred purring happiness, giving the vehicle a symbiotic life beyond its design. His thoughts amplified like a chess master many moves beyond the next; every blinker, brake light and absent minded driver already predicted and planned for. This is how he drove, how he centered himself, where the balance in his life was present. It was here on the open road where he found a peaceful coexistence with the world.

Often times there was a destination and sometimes the journey was the destination. Many times he just found himself on the road, in bliss, listening as the wind busily rustled around the vehicle. Many times he would experience his epiphanies behind the wheel, a spiritual awakening would smooth across his day as the trees whirred past. He described it akin to ‘God giving you a back rub.’

This time was different, as much as he enjoyed the ride he had a purpose in this journey. He had been on this one before, even to the destination, but this time it was different. Something was at stake, and even he did not know how important it was. He would soon find out.
old ending:

, and he allowed for the enjoyment of the journey, but this time the drive was the destination. There was something in the patterns of the battle for the right of way and the behavior of people on the road that hinted to something greater, that bled over into our lives. He came to this journey to discover the rosetta stone between the road and life. These veins of goods and people that coursed through the world, enabling good and evil to extend their range, also spoke to him about the true nature of each driver he shared the road with…

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