Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Roll the Windows Down

On Saturday, friends were coming over for a bbq in the evening so I jumped in the car for a quick drive down the road where the gas station stocks some fresh produce along with three-day old Krispy Kreme. It's not the most compelling assortment of offerings, but that place will do if it's after 5pm and the local general store (The Golden Rooster) is closed. So there it was, a steamy summer evening right at the beginning of spring. The sun had pinked up my face badly and sweat from the day had gone through my hat and shirt. It's a pretty picture I'm painting, no? Luckily, no one looks twice if you stroll into the gas station (or The Golden Rooster), hair plastered down with sweat, your face streaked with mud (manure?) and some stray cedar chips, wearing a pair of rubber boots and maybe a leather glove sticking out of your back pocket. People around here work on the weekends, son. So I paid no attention to my appearance and neither did anyone else while I loaded up with the essentials for a last minute bbq dinner.

As I opened the car door to leave, I realized the crickets were already out singing. I climbed up into the seat and rolled the windows all the way down while I pulled on out of the parking lot. I sped back to the land with those windows down, the colors of early spring flying by on all sides, and the heavy air whirling around the car. The radio was on loud but I couldn't really hear it with all the wind, and the crickets, and the green grass smell. And I'll be damned if driving a little too fast with windows down on a country road in springtime isn't one of the best ways to remember what needs reminding. Something about the blaring white noise of all that wind and the empty road; that above all else you're free, and it's so very good.

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