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 I don’t care if the tags are three years out of date.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.