the good ol' days

When he woke up, the moon was still in full bloom, although splattered with passing clouds. Somewhat startled, he woke up from a dream of walking on a crowded beach, under a scalding blue day, and the pressing feeling of time coming to a end.

Sometimes it didn't pay to stay in a motel. Sometimes it was just more important to sleep in your car. After all, the car was more important any any wife he might of had, more important then his parents, he thought with half consideration, half amusement. The real question was whether or not the car, a 1979 custom Lincoln Continental, was more important then God, but he told himself that distinction was easily blurred and to not try and figure it out. Just drive. Just drive.

Rummaging through the glove compartment, he found a copy of an old Iggy Pop tape and threw it in the player. The clock read 4:03am and he turned the volume all the way up as he roared the engine to life. Slapping his hands against the steering wheel to the beat of "the passenger", he squeezed the pedal and they came to life between 0 and 60, pulling off the emergency curb and into the high speed vein of life.

The sun rose to his left, the heat picking up faster then he was driving, which was pretty damn fast. Nothing one can do about those situations. You just have to keep the music turned all the way up, and hope that you didn't pass out behind the wheel.

He would need to find a store soon. There was a craving for one of those disgusting microwave-heated burritos, a large coffee, and a pair of flip-flops.