The Road

John looked up as a shadow crossed the neon lights, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was the waitress reaching over to top off his coffee. “Anything else I can get you?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I’ll take the check.”

“And how was everything?” She tore off a strip of green paper and set it down in front of him.

“Good. Thank you.”

“Great. You can pay at the front whenever you’re ready.”

Thunder rumbled as John took his receipt and headed out into the night. There were cars lined up in front of the diner, glittering in the falling rain and the glare of the parking lot lights.

Two more people came out behind him. A man and a woman. They hurried toward the row of SUVs. Lights blinked accommodatingly on one of the vehicles as they approached. The women was laughing at something. They seemed happy.

John jammed his key into the door of his old motor home and turned it. The lock hesitated a moment and then gave way. He clambered up into the driver’s seat and tossed his wet coat into the darkness behind him. The fifteen-year-old beast he was driving felt like it had more in common with semi-trucks than cars. It started up with a roar and he steered slowly through the parking lot. The motor home was a gas guzzler and it ran rough when it rained, but it had never let him down yet.

He looked both directions before pulling back out onto the main street. Twenty-five miles an hour. It left him plenty of time to examine the houses he was driving past before he left the little town. Most of them were lit; many didn’t even bother to pull the curtains. TVs played next to table lamps and computers. Sports, movies, and advertisements flashed. Families stared mesmerized at the screens.

The wipers squeaked across the windshield. The houses grew further apart as he headed back onto the highway. The road. Some said that it ended in a beautiful town by the sea where jobs and homes were abundant. Others said there was no end. No one really knew.

The streetlights were gone too now. It was just the darkness, the driving rain, and his headlights, winding through the mountains. Cell phone reception was spotty here, but who was he going to call anyway? He’d been driving since March of last year. The scenery was always changing—the people, the terrain, and the seasons—but he hadn’t found an end yet.

And then there was no more asphalt in the headlights. He rubbed his eyes. The road took a sharp turn down.  He must be leaving the mountains at last. He could feel the pressure difference in his ears. Not that it mattered much.

The hill was constant. He was braking steadily now. The shoulder was narrow and sloped. Guardrail ran along one side. He couldn’t see what was it was protecting him from. The brakes were getting hot. Now and then he could catch their distinctive acrid odor. He downshifted and hoped for the best.

Always something.

A light shown in the distance. Maybe it was another car. He hadn’t seen one in quite a while. But it turned out to be a lighted billboard in the middle of nowhere. “Three miles ahead. Buying used vehicles. Paying top dollar.”

The check engine light flickered on. Then off. He exhaled.

John idly wondered what top dollar was. What was a motor home old enough to be in high school worth?

More lights. Another billboard. “Twin Pines Motors. One mile ahead. Buying used cars, trucks, and RVs. You won’t find a better price.”

He imagined coming home to the same house every night. There would be a shower that didn’t need to be emptied later. A piece of land he could call his own.

While he was still thinking about that, the last billboard and the turn-off swept past. He wasn’t sure if he could stop in time at this point anyway. He had no choice but to continue on. He could see smoke in the side mirror. The check engine light stayed on now.

Not long later, the road finally leveled out. He continued on for another five miles before pulling onto the shoulder to rest an hour or two.

The first hint of pink in the sky woke him. That and the cold seeping in. He sat up slowly, restarted the vehicle, and headed back down the road. The engine was still warm. It didn’t take long for the heat to kick in again.

He could make out a glow in the sky in the distance. Another town. A simple green sign said “Plainview. Population 10,000.”

He pulled over to buy fuel, new wiper blades, spare brake parts, and something to eat.

"Tuson genuine brake pads and rotors," the man at the parts store said, setting two boxes on the counter. He didn’t look more than a few years out of high school.

"I'll take four of each."

“That’s a lot.”

“When you travel as long as I do, you carry extras.”

“Sure.”

John reached into his wallet. "Say, do you know where does this road leads?"

"West." The youth popped the overlarge wad of gum in his mouth. "You’ll pass through Borington and Smithtown in about twenty miles."

"And after that?"

"I don't know. Never been that far."

"Have you heard anything about where this road ends?"

"Ends?"

"Yeah."

"There is no end. Everybody knows that." He looked a bit incredulous. "Why?"

"Oh, just curious."

By the time John had grabbed some groceries at a hole-in-the-wall mom-and-pop shop and the sun was mostly up. There were cars on the road now. Most of them were heading toward a large factory to work. Meanwhile the children were disembarking from buses in front of a two-story brick school. They come out, one by one, lugging heavy backpacks. One carried a trombone case. None of them looked particularly enthusiastic.

John gave them one last glance before steering back onto the open road. The tires began their old familiar whistle on the highway and he let out a long sigh as the town grew smaller in the rear view mirror. Sunlight spilled over the asphalt now. Flowers bloomed in drifts on the prairie on each side.

Maybe the boy was right. Maybe there really was no end of the road.