Your Story:The Drive

I was out and about yesterday, enjoying the nice spring afternoon, when I captured this shot.  Write a story for it.

Your Story is a SethSnap series in which you get to decide the story behind the photo.  You can write a story, a poem or even just one word.  You decide.  Put on your favorite ball cap, turn on your favorite Willie Nelson song, hop in the old pickup truck and go! To see previous Your Story posts click on “Story Time” on the right.


67 responses to “Your Story:The Drive

  1. From this moment
    The future widens
    The road lifts you up

    From this moment
    Dawn breaks with promise
    For the weary journeyer

    From this moment
    Beauty beckons
    Beyond boundless borders

    From this moment
    We each travel alone

    Cheers, Helen

  2. Bumping up and down on the country road, windows down and wind blowing through my hair. Had the radio cranked up to high and sang along with Willie “Angel flying too close to the ground, fly on, fly on past the speed of sound”.

  3. Reblogged this on Cytherean Dreams and commented:
    Golden Glow

    I can see it
    just over that hill
    beyond where the road ends
    I see the golden glow
    of this happy future
    made up of a happy present
    lives, shining, waiting for me
    to journey there. If only
    I can conquer my fear
    of the descents
    into brief madness
    and know the pavement solid
    will ground my feet
    and travel with me
    to the golden light ahead.

  4. the kids are still screaming in the back yard unaware
    never hearing the words “get out of here”
    he drives away slowly looking back again
    the sun setting on his thoughtless sin

  5. When I am reaching a crest of a hill
    there is a point where I do not know if the road
    continues on the other side
    and I have to have faith
    and go forward
    trusting that things will be ok

  6. The truck jerked as he shifted into third gear and Wilamina fell forward in the truck bed. She held onto the side as though she’d fly off into the golden beauty of the afternoon, but the truth was, she wanted to just get out and walk and held tight to put it off. She had dreamed last night of walking all the way to Miss Tooma’s and throwing open the door and holler: “I’m back for more of blueberry cobbler!” Everything would be in its right place, even Goat, her mangy old dog. Miss Tooma would stride out with arms wide and she would fall into them laughing, patting Miss Tooma’s tender place smack in the middle of her back where the horse had kicked her so many years ago.
    The truck rumbled and swayed as it turned off the dirt driveway. Wilamina wanted out. Her nails hands hurt from hanging on. She wanted to never see Miss Tooma’s house again. There would be crying there, singing that brought down the walls and with them that ache of crazy sadness. You couldn’t bargain with death, she had heard all her life. But just maybe she would beg her brother to turn around and head the other way, let her out to walk home by the river where the flowers gave up their fragrance and the world was sweet and new. But she had it in her to say a few words for Miss Tooma, so she turned to face the house, and bit her lip ’til the tears settled and her heart got ready.

  7. The city had fallen behind me and I was halfway home from a long day at work. Rush hour was a fading memory and I was alone on this road.

    As my car reached the top of a rise, I checked my mirrors to confirm I was alone. I shut my engine down and enjoyed the sunset ahead of me, the setting sun that yearns for high summer days when it can beat the asphalt with its rays to searing heat. Those days are not here, yet.

    For a moment, I contemplate the dip in the road ahead of me and wonder if I should read something deeper into it or just take it for the dip that it is and think nothing more of it.

    I was shaken from my musings by the honking of a car behind me. As I was coming out of my fog, the driver spun her wheels and went around me and mouthed the word “Idiot!” as she went past.

    I was not the only one with a dip in the road ahead of me that day.

  8. The sun was just setting when I left. I had planned this perfectly so that they would find out I was gone tomorrow when they came home and then it would already be too late to go after me, I’d be long gone by then. They would never find me, I’d made sure of that. It was kinda sad, leaving the place you’d called home for so long but I just had to get out of there. From now on, no one would do that to me ever again. There would be no constant hospital visits where I was going. I could start over. I watched the sunset before me and I knew it was the sunset of freedom.

  9. I was a captive audience of one as the seasons changed. Weak winter sun shone in my eyes to and from work. I was envious of the skills of certain gardeners. They always got the jump in early spring. How did they manage to grow such beautiful blue hydrangeas?

    The same trashcans blew out on windy days. The same dogs barked as I drove past. The same inattentive drivers backed out without looking. The road at the bottom of the hill flooded with regularity on rainy days.

    My survival depended on a variation of the Golden rule–“Watch for others that don’t watch for themselves.”

    In predictability and sameness, all was right with the world.

  10. It’s a bit long, but the photograph captivated me, so the story got longer and I just ran with it.


    Tony was sleeping in the backseat, when a slight jump in the car startled him. He bolted straight up, hitting his head on the roof. He’d forgotten he was in a car. He’d thought he was back at his old house in Chesterton.

    “Sorry, kid. Did I wake you?”

    Tony rubbed his aching head and glared at the grinning eyes reflected in the car’s mirror. “You always drive like a maniac, mom. You should slow down or you’ll get me killed.”

    “Just you? What about me?” Margie asked, laughing.

    “With your luck, you’d probably walk away, scot-free.”

    “I’d swear Tony, you’re like one of those little downer pills the doctor gives me.”

    Tony snorted. “Your dealer you mean.”

    “Watch the mouth, kid,” Margie scolded, “Dr. James is not a dealer.”

    Tony snorted again. He slumped back against the seat and stared at his fingers. He was still holding the Luke Skywalker figure his best friend, Rick, had given him as a going-away present. He hated this move, and right now, he hated his mother.

    “I hate you.” His head throbbed, as if echoing his words.

    His mother said nothing. They drove for a while, a lone woman in the front, tapping her fingers on the wheel and driving like a maniac. A little boy in the back, too tall for his age, struggling not to cry. Suddenly, the car went through another flying leap, and the boy hit his head again, this time, against the back of the seat in front of him.

    “Dammit, mom, slow down.” Tony shouted.

    “Tony, come here. Look up.” Margie said, voice serious.

    “What?” He shouted, deliberately hitting the back of Margie’s seat a bit as he moved forward.

    “Look at that, in front.” Margie pointed. She slowed down the car.

    Tony looked. It was nothing, just a hilly road going up and down like a snake.

    “The sun’s coming up. It’s a new day, Tony.” Her voice was quite, intense, none of the usual laughter that Tony heard in it. “The dawn is here. The sun is gleaming on the asphalt. Look at that.” The car had slowed to a crawl. Tony looked. The trees in the distance were on fire. It was mesmerizing, and so was his mother’s voice suddenly filling up all the space in the car. “There’s a new beginning, for both of us, somewhere beyond this road. We’re going to a new place, filled with new people. I know it’s scary. New things always are. In fact, I’m scared too.” Tony looked at his mother’s face, but she kept her eyes trained on the road. “I’m scared, and that’s normal, but I’m going to keep on driving towards it, Tony. I’m going to keep on moving, because where we’re going we’ll both be freer to reach our dream.” Margie looked down, directly into her son’s eyes, boring through the hazel orbs. “More importantly, you’ll be freer to reach yours.” Her eyes held his for a long moment, not letting go until Tony nodded. She nodded in return and broke off the gaze, speeding up the car and driving onward.

    Tony leaned back, quiet, the Luke Skywalker figure still grasped tightly in his hand. His head still throbbed, but the anger was gone, for the moment. He had a lot to think about.

    Margie drove normally for the rest of the day. There were no more flying leaps.

  11. Pingback: The Drive « Head Trails·

  12. After she walked in the house and saw the clothes that were not hers mingled with his on the floor, she didn’t need to take another step to know it was time to hop in the truck, pick a direction, and…drive!

  13. I have traveled these roads a thousand times throughout my life,but they are never the same. make my way along the winding path, I see the flowers of spring along the roadside.
    I rolled down my window to drink in the intoxicating smellof the earth in her time of rebirth. She has awakened from her winter slumber with the vibrant pulse that courses through me.
    The road curls up before me, taking me up the
    mountain to the picturesque view of the country
    valley below.
    The fields are still barren, making the quilt-like
    patches of farm land Brown instead of the
    Technicolor hues of Autumn or the various shades of
    green in summer. The homes and barnes are dotted
    on like accent pieces. The busy family bustling
    around like ants preparing for the spring crops.
    I make my decent down the other side of the
    mountain and notice the pond where the ducks have always come to rest on their voyage back North has
    been swallowed up by massive flock of ducks that have come to eat, and take refuge here before moving on to their next pit stop.
    I drive around the winding corners and find myself home.

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