Image by Robert Dalgleish Copithorne via Flickr
Just passed Asylum Street.
A warning.
On the shoulder, a discarded sneaker left standing.
Farther down the road, another sneaker on its side.
Where are the feet? I dare not ask.
Strange roadside happenstance up ahead.
Minimum security prison on the left. Prisoners trapped in gray jumpsuits jogging in line across a yard, or not. It’s more like concrete grass. Prisoners like concrete, especially the shoes.
In the side view mirror, barbed wire fades into glass.
Now gone.
We continue past moo moo cows and cornfields, past boonie towns and weathered barns. On the road to infinite asphalt sky. Zero. Nothing, but gray ribbons twisting in the wind.
Luckily, GPS Gladys is our gal. Her voice, calm and reassuring.
“Continue along route 666 for another mile,” she says.
We follow.
Close to our destination we are told.
A sign confirms it. “Cheer up your lawn with manure.” It says. I say, “WTF?” We’re heading toward Crazy 8 Campus, stuck in mud beneath morphine sky.
“You’ll be taking a right in one mile,” pipes Gladys.
In exactly a mile, we turn onto Crazy 8 Road behind a slow moving Honda, with a bumper sticker on the back that brags, “You just got passed by a girl.”
We pass the Honda. A guy is at the wheel.
“Destination on the left in 500 feet.”
“Thanks, Gladys.”
Click.
She takes a nap.
We take a seat in Crazy 8 hall.
Taken any road trips lately?
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Thank goodness for Gladys!
Asylum Street? Missing feet? Your road trips sound like a blast.
Our highlights are flattened armadillo sightings.
Yippee.
Oh yeah, Route 666? Priceless.
RF: Yep. Flattened Armadillos. I remember long drives through Florida when I was a kid. Thanks!!!! There were really was an Asylum Street, two pairs of sneakers, etc. Just made up Route 666.
I'd recently listened to my Gladys who told me to take a right..on to three…yes I said 3 lanes of oncoming traffic.
Do you think there's some kind of blogger insurance out there?
Sounds like an eventful trip! My GPS has gone a little crazy lately and tries to direct me into lakes and down one way streets. Old age, perhaps?
Mrs. B: That must be psycho Gladys, a distant relative. I need blogger health insurance. I keep spraining my delete finger.
Tracie: Sounds like you've got psycho Gladys, too, although it could be old age. : ) I end up a lot in lakes, too. My car thinks it's a submarine, but it's really a Subaru.
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