Taillights

Taillights

         It is very late. The glowing numbers above my radio tell me why the highway is empty. Partially obscured by clouds, the moon with its purple halo watches the road with me. While the others in the car are asleep, I am alone. Alone, but it is quiet. The soothing murmur and hum of my car’s engine has imposed itself over my inner turmoil and the arrival of peace is welcome. My mind is free to wander now, only partially bound by the solid white and double yellow lines guiding me.

         Approximately six hundred miles behind me is the campground where my sister Joy, two of my cousins Mindy and Brian and I spent the past week. Youth camp was great and I enjoyed it. This is my first year to go and the first time Mindy, who is nineteen, and I, only seventeen, have been allowed to drive out of state any farther than Cheyenne without our parents. Our parents acknowledge that we are both good drivers and responsible enough; unfortunately they have done a lot of cross-country driving themselves and are all too familiar with the dangers of long distance driving. They gave us a number of stern reminders of those dangers and a few simple rules before we left the week before last. One of those rules is that either Brian or Joy, both of whom are too young to drive, stay awake to keep the driver alert any time the other driver is sleeping. Brian is the one supposed to help me stay awake.

         With a grimace, I glance in my rearview mirror. With a mountainous heap of miscellaneous stuff between them, CDs, shoes, sleeping bags and half-full bags of Doritos, Brian and Joy are both sleeping. Joy curled up against the door with my pillow and Brian leaning against the window with the bill of his Bronco’s hat pulled down over his eyes. With a half smothered grin I notice the toothpick dangling out of the corner of his mouth.

         “Aw. What I wouldn’t give for a camera.”

         Ahead of me, I hear the guttural rumble of a semi’s jake brake and the sound sends a ripple of pleasure over me. This is one of my favorite highway sounds and as always Timberwolf and Curbhopper come to my mind.



         Timberwolf and Curbhopper were driving partners. When I was born, they drove a cab-over Ford they later traded for a conventional Freightliner, which is the truck that I remember. My earliest memories of them include the persistent smell of diesel fuel in the leather jackets they wore and the sparkly red butterfly pin they brought me for Christmas one year. I remember the time they took me for a ride with them. Sitting high in the sleeper with one arm hooked around the passenger seat’s headrest, I felt like I was flying. The battered, oil stained logbook they carried tucked away in the doghouse to me held the most exciting adventure story ever written.

The Freightliner has been sold though. The logbook, with all its columns of dates, miles and safety checks, has been packed away. They retired from driving truck years ago and no longer go by Timberwolf and Curbhopper. Now, they answer to Grandpa Weston and Grandma Lucille. He laughs and endlessly tells the tales of his driving experiences while she shudders, claiming she doesn’t know how they stayed alive. They don’t drive anymore, but I feel the same pride in wearing his old Freightliner jacket, bearing a ripped shoulder patch proclaiming ‘one year accident free.’



A turn in the road reveals the truck ahead of me. The heavy glow of red taillights is approaching quickly, so I change lanes and glide past. Glancing up, I see blue letters spelling out ‘SWIFT’ on the trailer. And then I’m ahead.

         Flash. Flash.

         The blink of the headlights just catches the corner of my eye as I turn my head. Come on over, he tells me. You have the room.

         My smile and raised hand of thanks is lost in the darkness, I know, but suddenly the headlights in my rearview mirror are warmer.

         From the seat beside me, Mindy reaches over to turn on the radio, keeping it low so Brian and Joy won’t be bothered. She yawns as she asks, “Are you ready for me to drive?”

         “Sure.”

As though the sound of her voice is permission for my body to remember exactly how late it is, I suddenly feel tired.

“There’s a rest stop ahead. We’ll switch there.” Smiling wryly, I jerk my head towards the back seat. “The person supposed to help me stay awake fell asleep.”

         She turns around to peer at Brian and Joy. “We could open the windows.” She suggests. “Blow ‘em out.”

         “Take a picture. That’s good enough revenge. Look at Brian.”

Turning on my blinker, I pull onto the exit ramp into the rest area.

         She twists around in her seat to get a better look and lets out a soft laugh. “Oh yes. With the toothpick.”

         After a moment, Mindy turns around, apparently deciding that revenge can wait for later. “Well, you can sleep now. I’m good for an hour or two.”

         Ten minutes later, the incriminating pictures of our sleeping cohorts taken, with a water bottle in my hand and Mindy in the driver’s seat, we pull back onto the highway. I lean my head against the window, listening to the tires on the highway and Mindy softly humming along with the song on the radio. 

         She speaks suddenly, “How has it been?”

         “Easy. Nice and peaceful.” Reaching into the backseat for my car pillow, a small heart shaped thing, I smiled.

“I love driving.”