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strange being the only one who stays on the road pt 1

In 100, by Nora on December 3, 2020 at 2:36 pm

In the West, I’m dwarfed, surrounded by vans and RVs and towed teardrops with mattresses, people who spend their dusty lives tracing canyons, looking for BLM land, staying at hot springs, the journey is the destination, the road is the hotel. As I move East I gain more hills and aspens root beneath the road and eventually evangelical radio preachers accumulate. Trump signs, anti-choice, AR 15s for sale. The cars become boxier and more performative, tow-trucks that don’t actually tow, 4-wheel-drives only used for playing pop country extra loud. Corn arrives, unending sentinels along disturbingly straight road. I keep driving.

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