Hey Jim...All My Rowdy Friends Have Lost Their Minds.

[Triple Zero]

I never thought I'd end up on the highway.  I spent my time exploring out in the woods, chasing wildlife, and splashing around in the cool, fresh water of the creek.  One day a girl sat beside me.  She pulled her shoes off and we giggled while kicking water at each other.  I loved her with her hearty laugh and brightly painted eyes, like a peacock. My Birdie.

She started to run and I chased behind her until we came to a clearing I'd never been to before.  The ground was hard and flat.  I'd heard about this thing before.  She hop into the car and beckoned me to follow her.  I did it without asking.  She drove me through my mountains and onto the main road.  We picked up some passengers and sped around in the night, darting off the road to run down campaign signs.  It was all a game and the light from the lamp posts kept making her teeth sparkle when she laughed.

Then she went farther than she'd ever been before.  The passengers got out one by one and we were alone.  She wanted to explore more (She said that's what everyone told her we were supposed to do.) but was too afraid to drive any longer.  She asked me to take the wheel.  This was new.  This was fun.  I liked the way the wind pulled at my hair, pulling the curls straight then roll against my bare shoulders until they sprung back into place along my temples and cheeks.  Feeling the car respond to my touch was exhilarating. 

She was getting a little anxious.  She said she kept thinking she saw things by the roadside, just glimpses.  She got quiet.  She rolled up the window to a crack and lit a clove cigarette to calm her.  I loved the way she smelled, sweet from the cloves.  The way the rag top thrummed all around us excited me and made me feel more alive than I'd ever felt before.  She didn't like it.  It frightened her.  She turned on the radio to drown out the noise.  For a little while she was back to her old self.  We sang along with the music at the top of our lungs.

The song ended but she was still singing.  No, not singing.  Screaming.  I looked at her.  Her face was drawn and her eye makeup had settled into the creases.  The tears were dripping off her jawline.  She'd seen things.  She wanted to stop but not here.  I told her I'd pull over at the next gas station.  She sprawled out in the back seat, muttering to herself.  I called back to her every few minutes to see if she was alright, trying to figure out what the hell she was saying.  Eventually she stopped responding.  I pulled into the gas station and went in to get some water for us.  When I came out she was gone.

I was alone in the car and the traffic was picking up.  I wanted to go on because that's what I'm supposed to do, right?  And I wanted to know.  I think Birdie found out.  I put the windows back down to feel the wind pull my hair.  I was a little scared and I didn't know why. 

Horns blared and I started to get anxious.  Cars started getting more aggressive.  A car passing me from the shoulder clipped my front bumper and I swerved a bit.  As I correct I see them, the people on the side of the road in the distance.  A man stands by a woman about to change a tire.  As I passed I think I saw him bring the tire iron down on her head.  No, it can't be. 

I saw her pack of cloves and rolled the window up to a crack to light one.  The smell was calming and the tinge of pain in my lungs felt good.  I ran over something in the road.  I looked in the mirror.  A body.  It must've been a dog, a large dog, wearing a pink shi FUCK what's that douchebag doing riding up on my ass like that?!?    He passed me up and I could've sworn there was something wrong with his face.  The thrum of the rag top started to get to me.  I turned the music up. 

I don't like being on this road anymore.  I'm tired of driving and my ass is sore from sitting so long.  I wanted off before but the other cars wouldn't let me into the right lane.  The cars behind me keep pressing in on me and the ones to the side want over.  I keep accelerating to keep up the pace.  I'm going so fast now, too fast.  My Jeep is rattling.  Or maybe that's me with the caffeine jitters.  I can't tell.  I'm sucking down those cigarettes like candy, humming along to the tunes between puffs.  It dawns on me that I'm separated from the hard concrete by nothing more than a thin sheet of metal and some carpet.  The music on the radio isn't sounding like music anymore.  That's not the radio.  It's me screaming. 

I can't get off now.  I'm dedicated to it.  I'll be damned if I don't find out what is out there.

Took me a couple of days before I found the peace to read this but, DAMN Good stuff, gin! Apart from describing the general topic of this thread really well, there's something extra about it, I can't quite put my finger on it.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Bump

[Richter]

Well said, but  I'm not sure what to say to it myself.  It's I've had a sudden attack of life.  Something always keep taking me in some other direction.  I get the sense this ISN'T quite "real life" anymore. 

In "real life" everyone has nice produtive jobs that they steadily advance in, nice creativeand interesting friends, and nice cleanplaces full of furniture that matches.  Maybe they play gold or soccer or some shit,go to parties, clubs, and drink.

My time is spent howling horrible shit at my job, and somehow getting PRAISE for it.  I put hundreds of miles under the wheels of an ancient station wagon full of nasty apparatus heading to different corners of the state to practice an odd blend of armed sports that like to mix up aikido with swords and knives.  I make bizzare arts and crafts projects,or reading strange assortment of books while playing two radio stations at once because there jsut isn't enough NOISE. 
My friends encourage all this.  They are, each one of them terrible, but all in the right way.  I realize I cannot stomach anyone who isn't anymore.  The whole time I'mcnvinced I'm not on the highway but I really SHOULD be. The I pass what could only be a cross dressing Big Bird with a sign offering odd avian actions for a ride.  I suddenly don't feel like decelerating.

[Adios]

Well Dok, I've seen the highway. When I did it made me turn off the road, lock up the 4 wheel drive and head into the wilderness. In the wilderness you know the rule, eat or be eaten. Now I know this has to be the same rule as found on The Lost Highway, but somehow in the wilderness it just seem more natural.

You can't drive fast in the wilderness either, there is no escape in hurling past something terrible so fast you can't really see exactly what it is. No, you have to creep along, so slow that every detail is etched forever into the mind.

The crazy part is you can still become a sausage, rolling down a mountain end over end can do horrible things to you. And then there are the animals that may just not be animals, at least the kind of animals one would want to see. Once in a while teeth gnashing together can have a terrible metallic sound.

You can't really enjoy the view from the wilderness either, caution and self preservation demand that your attention remains on the immediate surroundings. No telling what will try to leap through the windows if you're not paying close attention.

Once in a while I come to a high place and I can look down on the Lost Highway, it is never empty, but always bumper to bumper with the mostly dead. Their white knuckled grip on the steering wheels can be seen from a mile away. The dead stare of their eyes shine with an eerie glow that shouldn't be there. Many have traces of spittle on their chins, and the never seem to look left or right, but always dead eyed straight ahead.

I never stay in those places for long, they pull my attention away from what is right around me, and that is far too dangerous. So I drive away, looking neither left nor right, white gripped on the steering wheel.....