The Road

I live at a crossroad. When my attention falters, I can watch the lights turn and fire trucks rush through the intersection. I live on the edge, where Town turns into Fancy Town, and the road between them is scenic. As such, I often see very fancy cars driving through my intersection as a break between the more plebian, boring cars and the rushing fire trucks.

I have never had anyone offer a guitar for my soul at these crossroads, but it could be that I’m never out at the right time. Maybe my dog scares off the devil. He’s pretty cute; I imagine the devil doesn’t hold with cute.

My manuscript is not at the crossroad. It is on a long state road in Illinois. It’s too green to be truly Midwestern bleak, and it’s too flat to sing to my mountainous heart. But if I keep going, I might finish. And that keeps my attention.

Actually this extended metaphor is both a procrastination technique and a way to admit to the semi-anonymous universe that I think Porsches are insanely beautiful cars. But I still want the 1960s Bug.

How’s your path through the wilderness?


7 responses to “The Road

  1. I was just having the conversation on the train that as my birthday approaches I am closer to the time when people completely change their careers, their lives, for something different, arguably better. That being said, I’ve always wanted the VW van, the old one with the itty, bitty sink, so when I publish something I can quit my job and my family and felines have a place to stay once they foreclose on my house.

  2. Have you ever seen a Nissan Figaro? Go look it up. It’s the 1960 bug with a French flair (instead of German sensible shoes), and 1990 technology. It only has a 600cc engine, so you could pretend it was a bicycle with a bit of imagination. Can I have one of those for my birthday? Pleeeeaase?

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