Driving across the barrier
Any other day and it would have been fine, but here we were, driving across the barrier, the GREAT BARRIER. Never mind that she said we would never make it. Never mind that the ’62 Olds purred like a kitten as it chased down the road. Never mind that God was on my side. What was important was the flat serene certainty of the ride, of the vastness of the waiting unknown.
From Omaha, to George. To Bakersfield and TO, we stopped in the beer joints, reeking, sweating youthful beams into the audiences wherever we went. And we were loved more than we loved back. Of that I am certain.
Put on a pair of rubber boots, grab the hoe and lets go to the market avenue and find us some fresh snapper. Cod if you will by a different name. A fish is a fish of course unless he is a horse of course.
Wisconsin. Flat tire. 10.00 bucks and I was on the road again. Happier dreams across the rainbow with Kermit the Frog were waiting. Hellfire and brimstone man, hell fire and BRIMSTONE!!!The mud soaked my panels, but that old ’62 kept chugging along. Missed a turn but that was okay, it crept into further and farther darkness. Headlamps and headlights froze the scene, beautiful minute details criss-crossed the windshield and then you screamed.
Natives gathering steam. Litter strewn. Your eyes lit like torches black. I pulled over, Saturn looking down, tires locked. Fish in a barrel was all I heard.Now I am driving against a barrier that can’t be seen.