Joshua Colwell, 2014
I see their lights dotting the horizon. Fading in and out like specters in fog, they dance back and forth in a haze of color. Screaming hunks of metal zoom past me faster than I can count, but not fast enough to where I don’t see a raccoon applying makeup in her mirror. Old, worn-out trees, the surrounding landscape, provide just enough cover from the slowly-rising sun, enough to hide the dilapidated houses behind them. My hand brushes across the thick, grey leather, leaving the imprint of my hand worn into the wheel. Recurring yellow lines paint the road before me with neatly-laid breadcrumbs, now faded from years under the baking summer sun. I barrel over several cracks in the road, fractured from the stresses of its job- much like the students who take it every day. The lights pick up speed now and blaze out into the urban jungle.