As I drove, I could see the anvil clouds and lightning flashes off to the south of my route. For most of my trip, I kept hoping that the rains would stay down that way, since my path was pretty much due west, and maybe I’d get out of this ridiculous flytrap truck before I had to rely on the windshield wipers again. [It is not so much that the wiperblades were bad, as it was that I’d got sufficient bugs splattered on the windshield as to make lots of translucent smears when the wipers were in operation…]
Ominous signs that this or that 260 acres were available for “development”. The thunk and rattle of the now-empty truck box. Are they called truck boxes? It’s the box part of the truck… Cargo area?
Drive, drive, chase the fading light all the way home….