The black pick-up flies down the highway at 90mph, making everything seem blurrier than necessary. The girl driving the truck sings the last lines of her favorite song as she crests over a small hill, losing the headlights in her rearview. The song transitions into silence as the cd is processing the next song and the highway in front of her is empty. No cars are going the way she came from. For a moment, the silence and the empty roadways overwhelm her with a sense of loneliness. The feeling is banished when the next song starts and a pair of brake lights come into view. Andy shakes her head and begins singing the next song, blocking out the negative feelings.
“This ain’t a scene it’s a goddamn arms race..” she shakes her head and belts out the lines roughly along with Patrick Stump. Andy honestly felt like screaming, tearing her hair out, but kept it to yelling the lyrics of the Fall Out Boy song. The song made her blood pump the further it went on and she found herself yelling louder with each chorus until she was finally out of breath. The hair on the back of her neck started to stick every so slightly. She cranked the air conditioning with a quick flick of her wrist. Her hand combed through her hair and removed the strands sticking to her neck.
The truck had slowed down to the speed limit, 70mph, and she turned on cruise control while switching to the slow lane. The radio changed cd’s as she punched the green glowing buttons on her dash. Twenty One Pilots' Vessel started to leak through the old speakers. The track is forced to skip to the second song as she flips the switch to her favorite melody on the album. The lyrics wash over her and she smiles. Andy hums along and watches the cars in front of her mosey along while she wonders where they are going. The little gold Nissan in front of her Chevy gets the honor of a story.
Andy imagines the old woman driving the Nissan was headed to finally live out her dreams. She was going to hike to the point of Hawksbill and camp out overnight. She had packed provisions and was ready to camp like she used to. She was meeting up with an old flame to top it off. The old lady had butterflies and prayed that she wasn’t too old for love. Her head was filled with the idea of a campfire and being curled up in a tent… cozy and safe.
Andy hoped that the old woman got what she hoped for, and turned off the highway, headed to her own campground. She pulled into her favorite parking spot, made herself a pallet in the back of her truck, and curled up with her book. The stars twinkled in and out of view as the book in her hands became thicker on the left side than the right. Before Andy knew it, it was late, very late, and time to head home. She reluctantly headed back to the cab of her vehicle, book and pallet in tow, and turned towards the highway once again.
