A small escape. We don't have much time or much money, but our hearts sing for empty highways. The sun sparks off the pine trees and winks at us between the needles. I rest my filthy feet on the dash admiring my impressive y shaped tan lines from living in flip flops all summer. I run my hands thorough my hair, it has been lightened by the sun and I am blond again for a brief moment and I feel the power inherent in that.
Our breaks are short, we can't go too far. But upstate New Jersey holds a wealth of windy carless roads. I put my hand out the window letting the wind buffer it up and down. I hear in my head, a boyfriend explaining wind currents and how airplanes stay up. It's what I always think of when I put my hand out of a speeding vehicle. Also stories told by paranoid mothers about hands being torn off by passing cars. It makes me cautious.
We listen to surf tunes, reggae, music that carries the smell of acrid green smoke. That brings beaded curtains, low couches and lazy mornings, to mind. I sing the words I know getting lost in the music. We don't talk, we just concentrate on the road trip. Taking it seriously.
Our time winds down, we return reluctantly and park. I scoot my flip flops back on, hop out of the car and run to the lake. My bathing suit and whistle constant summer companions. For now, I am aired out. Ready to demonstrate dolphin kicks and how to blow bubbles. Ready to pay attention and keep my charges safe. A much needed adventure.
What's your favorite road trip memory?
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