black as a tattoo, never to wash away...
In September 2004, Mike and I visited Lauren for an afternoon/night on our way back from West Virginia. We took my resilient little Blazer, so I did all of the driving for our trip.
I got us lost on our way to Farmville, driving through roads well west of Richmond that made me feel as if a brown man like myself was still subject to hanging. I was scared. It felt like fucking Klan country. So we were lost, I was scared, and what could have been a three-hour drive turned into closer to five.
But we made it safely.
It was a good day, but it was a long day. Sometime late that night, Lauren threw in a movie and turned off the lights to her dorm room, and that was it. I was fast asleep. I think Mike ended up passing out, too.
It was like 2 a.m. when we left.
Driving out of Farmville, I found myself on a highway that quickly was divided by a wall of trees so thick that I couldn't see even the lanes of opposing traffic. It cast an ominous darkness over both the road I was driving and the drive itself.
After passing a couple of other vehicles, I resigned myself to the left lane to be unbothered by travelers venturing the on-ramps--not that I had to worry. Mike and I didn't see another car for over an hour.
Mike and I did the best we could at such a late hour to keep each other company. One cigarette turned into another as we caught up on the newest stories, perspectives and philosophies in our lives. It was a good distraction from the harrowing solitude of the road.
We forged through this endless tunnel of trees and desolation for a while. There were no stars to guide us, no artificial lights to provide a beacon of hope.
And then, there were lights.
Artificial lights.
Headlights.
A beacon of hope.
A realization...
"Oh SHIT! How long have I been in this lane?!?"
I immediately merged to the right lane.
Our sole companion on this ghost road rapidly approached. Mike and I traded the requisite complaints about the asshole who couldn't dim his or her bright lights.
The driver passed by us, vanishing in the cold autumn night.
Mike and I seamlessly continued sharing jokes and outrageous hypotheses.
Fifteen minutes later, the tree wall diminished.
We saw everything!
We saw a dim moonlight. We saw city lights on the horizon.
To our left we clearly saw two cars in two lanes entering the same tunnel from which we finally escaped.
I'd forgotten.
We were on a four-lane highway.
I got us lost on our way to Farmville, driving through roads well west of Richmond that made me feel as if a brown man like myself was still subject to hanging. I was scared. It felt like fucking Klan country. So we were lost, I was scared, and what could have been a three-hour drive turned into closer to five.
But we made it safely.
It was a good day, but it was a long day. Sometime late that night, Lauren threw in a movie and turned off the lights to her dorm room, and that was it. I was fast asleep. I think Mike ended up passing out, too.
It was like 2 a.m. when we left.
Driving out of Farmville, I found myself on a highway that quickly was divided by a wall of trees so thick that I couldn't see even the lanes of opposing traffic. It cast an ominous darkness over both the road I was driving and the drive itself.
After passing a couple of other vehicles, I resigned myself to the left lane to be unbothered by travelers venturing the on-ramps--not that I had to worry. Mike and I didn't see another car for over an hour.
Mike and I did the best we could at such a late hour to keep each other company. One cigarette turned into another as we caught up on the newest stories, perspectives and philosophies in our lives. It was a good distraction from the harrowing solitude of the road.
We forged through this endless tunnel of trees and desolation for a while. There were no stars to guide us, no artificial lights to provide a beacon of hope.
And then, there were lights.
Artificial lights.
Headlights.
A beacon of hope.
A realization...
"Oh SHIT! How long have I been in this lane?!?"
I immediately merged to the right lane.
Our sole companion on this ghost road rapidly approached. Mike and I traded the requisite complaints about the asshole who couldn't dim his or her bright lights.
The driver passed by us, vanishing in the cold autumn night.
Mike and I seamlessly continued sharing jokes and outrageous hypotheses.
Fifteen minutes later, the tree wall diminished.
We saw everything!
We saw a dim moonlight. We saw city lights on the horizon.
To our left we clearly saw two cars in two lanes entering the same tunnel from which we finally escaped.
I'd forgotten.
We were on a four-lane highway.