Driving down the quiet roads.
The red car exults in motion. It purrs, it hums and occasionally it roars.
But mostly it is quiet.
The endless pavement clicks past. My car and I are merely sitting on top of the moving belt. We are motionless. The road rushes beneath us. Sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety miles an hour. The world streams by. I am snuggled into my comfortable seat. My music is playing. All remains calm.
The car is happy to be on this trip.
Or maybe that is me.
We climb through Colorado passes, alone on the road. Alone in the world.
I wish I could stay in this in-between place forever.
No news in the car. No strife. No arguments. No decisions.
Just the sassiness of the vehicle, the smooth climb of the road and the upward stretching of the mountains.
I am just a passenger here.
Outside the world is devolving. But it cannot touch me.
Not while I’m in the red car.