The desert – open, vacant and beautiful in its desolation. Only the mile markers speak of your progress toward civilization. You could close your eyes and just drive and open them to see the same expanse of sand and heat rising off the blacktop for endless miles.
But the endless miles let you think. Let you ponder. Let you run and rerun that which you seek to escape. All the bad. All the misery. All the vestiges of a life gone wrong. Let’s you contemplate how life will be different in the new place. Because new is good – it’s a fresh start and clean slate. Because you have learned from your mistakes and by so doing deserve a second chance.
Mile marker 943 – sand and cactus still rule and stretch further still. You can see for miles in the flat unchanging terrain and music and air conditioning are your best friends. Truckers with whom you share the road, angels in disguise and a presumed safety net if you get into trouble.
It takes a certain amount of trust to point yourself toward lands unconquered and life unknown. Or stupidity. Only time and experience can tell. And the mile markers lead the way – one mile at a time.
How many miles does Christines marker mark?
How many miles before Clancy gets her cup of joe?