ink on the road

Road trips are measured in CD's and cigarettes--if we smoked!

The smell of the car after opening the door from a bathroom break in a gas station--peanut butter, goldfish, sweat, pee pee diapers, farts and recycled air. Pennies all over the car and the requisite french fry under the seat--the one you'll find when you're desperately digging for a quarter, a stick of gum, or a chapstick, or if you're hungry enough might chance a nibble at after picking off the lint balls and gum crust chunks.

Not feeling tired, but worried you are after your co-pilot asks "how you doin'? tired at all? want me to take over?" and you say--too quickly--no--and watch them settle in and start to snore.

The sun is warmer through the windshield--that's why my feet reside on the dashboard. Add smell of sun-steeped feet to the list.

Wal-Mart that looks like a hoe-down is happening inside. A famous landmark that's way cooler on postcards than IRL and grabbing the camera trying to squeeze photo art and great blog posts out of the mundanity, insanity, profanity, urbanity and ultimately our vanity that is road trip, Feb 2007.