On The Road

When travelling across the States at night-time (as I did for five years), you'd occasionally find another car that would stay with you for 50 miles or so. It meant nothing. Just another car's taillights in front of you, or behind you, but in the dark it was a friend, and when you both went your separate ways, you'd flash your lights at each other to say goodbye. You knew nothing about the other driver

 - their hopes, their dreams, their aspirations, their lifestyle, their beliefs, the state of their affairs - but you wished them well, and carried on driving in the dark, passing through towns at kick-out time, noticing the different police vehicles in different states, screaming into the wind sometimes to keep yourself awake, until the dark edge of night softened into the pastel glow of dawn, and you neared your destination.