This is just a little piece I was having fun with...I'm sure you'll get a good laugh...if not, then I guess I'm just insane.

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Feeling free, I loosen my grasp around the steering wheel and roll down the windows. The stations on the radio died out a few miles ago but there’s something comforting about the choruses and clicks in the static that forbids me to drive on with out the faint resonation of the speakers. I find myself stretching an arm out of the lowered window to my left. The grip of the wind seems to tug at my fingertips. As I press down on the gas, I can see the sun slowly elevate itself into the sky through my review mirror. The outstretch of the desert is illuminated in bronze as traces of sand and dust mirage their way into the horizon. “Mexico,” I keep repeating to myself. “Mexico,” At this rate, I give myself a day before I’m bathing the Rio. My back arches as I inhale a largely exaggerated breath and repeat the destination one more time. The scent of sun dried leather interior and evergreen air freshener are finally beginning to be overwhelmed by the open road. I don’t even notice the clouds of rubble shot out beneath my tires as I accelerate onto the blacktop, drifting back and forth between lanes. I get this feeling that I’m outrunning the sunrise. Some steed; hooves pounding into the earth, galloping westward. Riding off towards “Mexico.”

The hours and miles pass on as I continue in my pursuit of escape. It’s nightfall by the time I realize I’m lost. “Sigh…” I start making my way backwards. The journey seems longer and much duller than before. The feeling of running away has long since abandoned me and I now feel as if I’m struggling just to keep up with the sun. The night is cold, I roll my windows back up. The desert is pale and has lost its radiance. My eyes are growing heavy and I have yet to turn off the void of static pouring out of the radio.

“Schhh.echh….ch..ch”
“Hmm?”
“….chh..ch.”
“Sorry, I don’t speak Spanish”
“…..”
“…..”

I’m beginning to worry for my own sake. The blurred vision is enough to keep me cautious, but the hallucinations or what ever you want to call that conversation I just had with my radio…I need to pull over. Just as I begin to slow down and extend my arm to turn the radio off--

“chh-ch…la-la-la…--- ba”
“What now?”
“…la-la-la-la-la bamba…”

I cant help but to smile at myself. I press my foot back down on the acceleration and feel the grin on face begin the grow. “Mexico, here I come.”