The radio plays a forgotten song. Brenda Lee’s “Coming on Strong”.
Been on the road. Two lane black top. A ribbon of asphalt macadam tarmac spooling endlessly out in front of the bumper. Jacked up on gas station coffee. White line fever. Burning up tank after tank of high-test fossil fuel.
This ain’t no hybrid. It’s a Detroit museum piece rolling on all season radials. Big. Bad. Buick. Wildcat. That’s right. Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl…the wind began to howl. The setting sun is shredding the clouds into pieces of candy floss. Step on it. I have a sunset to catch.
Six days on the road and I’m gonna be home tonight. I’m driving like I just got out of jail and was being chased by Big Daddy Garlits down the quarter-mile. If it weren’t for physics and law enforcement I would be unstoppable. Next exit – vanishing point.
Listening to the hypnotic rhythmic thrum of the tires the mind starts to wander. Hypotheses form and dissolve in front of my eyes in an endless sea of possibilities. Simple ideas take root from the tiniest germ of a thought and blossom into complex and detailed blueprints for radical and unimagined ideas…
If the castaways had killed Gilligan they would have been rescued in days.
When did the football field become a unit of measurement?
Why do criminals pick Metropolis? Don’t they know Superman lives there?
Is the only way to get havoc – is to wreak havoc?
Maybe the cheque really is in the mail.
Good and food should rhyme.
Why do you spell “different” the same way every time?
If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one to hear it – does it make a sound? If you fall in the forest breaking your leg and there is no one to hear you scream – are you still eaten alive by wolves?
And then the slightest bounce in the road jolts me back to reality. Check the mirror. Did I hit something? How was I to ever know that only moments before a small brown rabbit on his way to meet a tortoise was contemplating the age-old question “why did the chicken cross the road?” and decide to field test his potential answer and was now meeting St. Peter Cottontail at the 24 carrot gold gates of the after life.
I have to say it…It’s 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark and we’re wearing sunglasses. Hit It.
If I drive all night I’ll see you when the sun rises.
Second to the right and then straight on till morning…
Mr Bob Radio Blog 
