A writer of travels and life, road trips and hikes, but going back into her known past is one of those journeys, like heading out on to the highways and running down a dream.
I keep my eyes averted from the rearview mirror as I drive away from Los Angeles. Interstate 15 to Interstate 40. North and then East. Across the Mojave Desert. Back from whence I came. Never look back. Though I don’t place so much trust in that superstition anymore. After all, I didn’t look back when I left Michigan. Never going back, I declared. Never say never. But I did and look what happened.
I drive with the windows rolled down. The hot desert air pulls my hair out of the ponytail strand by strand. The car heater is on full blast to keep the radiator from overheating. 1965 Dodge Custom 880. It’s three years older than I am. It bought it when I first arrived in California, exactly five years ago. With all the financial problems that it’s caused me, I should hate this land yacht. But…
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