Headspace: a record of my thoughts as I drive a big ass truck across two states by myself.
-Why didn’t I get to drive the Mustang? I don’t care if the tags are three years out of date.
-Why is the sun so fucking bright? I get it, you’re a big ball of fire!
-If every road leads me back to you, then why the fuck am I still in the car?
-If the welding machine slides out of the open tailgate and squishes someone behind me I am going to be really pissed.
-If the welding machine crashes through the cab of the truck and squishes me I am going to be really pissed.
-West Virginia is really, really pretty. And why are all the houses so tall and skinny?
-I just ate at a Waffle House. A Waffle House, for chrissake.
-I would kill for a salad and a glass of water.
-I need a shower—no, a bath. In witch hazel.
-Wait, what state am I in?
-I both feel and smell like the bottom of an ashtray—at a Waffle House, circa 1987.
-Ashland? How are we in North Carolina? Oh, that’s Ashville…my geography sucks.
-I never thought I would hear myself say that I’m glad to be going to Kentucky.
-I’m on the historic Kentucky bourbon trail!
-I can’t believe coal mining is a thing people still do, it seems so Dickensian.
-Pink sky and blue mountains at sunset.
-Bird shit or bug guts?
-I like to be able to see the road in front of me, both literally and metaphorically.
-Cresting a hill at dusk, it feels like we’re driving into the sky.