Into the sunset we rode, and the smell of the familiar air of home gradually changed. Her car was our horse, with cylinders for legs, tires for hooves, and a steering wheel for the reins. The rush of eighty miles-an-hour was our theme song, as it roared by my ears and forced me to squint at the trees flowing hurriedly by, like the inexorable scroll of the credits on a silver screen. I looked to my left, and she had never looked more beautiful. I didn’t know why, then, but I know it now, just as surely as I know we are stronger for having taken the journey. In covering these distances, we have conquered the land, and set ourselves free. A free and spirited woman is the most beautiful view there is.
Written at 1:30am, in an Amarillo, TX hotel room, after eighteen straight hours of driving split between two people. Sleep deprivation is a curious thing…..
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