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Route 66

I began writing this fictional story a couple years ago, and then tossed it aside.  Today, I thought, hmmm…maybe I’ll see if I couldn’t get some help finishing it.  If you’re game, it’s now going to be a Chain Story.  However, I am open to awarding a prize to the most creative story teller!

Here are the simple rules:

1. Continue where I left off by adding up to a few short sentences. Each section/entry should elaborate and follow the plot-line of preceding sections.  I’m not sure how many folks will jump in on this, but feel free to post more than once, as long as you let others have a turn.
2. Make his story contain something you wish you could do in 2010.

***The GRAND PRIZE!! A copy of Donald Miller’s newest book: A Million Miles in A Thousand Years***

Let The Story Begin

The head lights shimmered like diamonds on that foggy Saturday night. The misty air threatened to engulf even the last signs of the oncoming traffic that was my only hope for meandering down the narrow two lane, historic road they call Route 66.

There was nothing highway about this now historic country road that connected Springfield, Missouri, and Tulsa.  And when you see your life flash before your eyes every time a semi truck races inches past you, you know you’re not on a real highway.

And if to make matters worse, it had began to drizzle. I could see in the distant night sky, the foreboding flicker of lightening.  Fighting back every pessimistic premonition, I turned on the windshield wipers and glanced down at my watch.  “Crap,” I muttered underneath my breath, quickly realizing that I had forgotten to change the eroding rubber windshield wiper blades.  The quiet hum of the air condition was now accompanied by the sounds of nails on a chalkboard, as the metal arms scrapped back and forth over the windshield surface of my 1995 Jeep Wrangler.  They provided little relief from what was now beginning to become a torrential downpour.

She would have to wait, I thought to myself, as I slowed to a crawl and parked along the shoulder of the road. Even though I risked missing the opening scene of the play, and hearing her never live it down, I just had to wait this thing out.  Besides, I had seen “The King and I” as a child, and I wouldn’t be heart broken if I missed it tonight.

I now couldn’t see a thing.  I sat there with the car running, but the head lights off, almost feeling relieved that I actually didn’t have to come up with an excuse this time for being late, but also still wishing I had left work a bit earlier like I promised her I would. Mother nature was my perfect alibi.  If she didn’t believe this one, I’d have verifiable proof she truly was crazy.  But I was equally as crazily in love…I couldn’t help it.  And its not that I was always lying to her, it was actually the opposite.  I sometimes was just too honest.  Honest about how I felt about her religion, about wanting to quit my job, and about having kids. This is the stuff I don’t remember them ever mentioning in marriage counseling.  7 years together and you’d think we would know each other by now, but we were learning that people grow, and knowing takes work.

9:33pm.

If I planned on getting any of this I would have to leave now.  The rain was still pouring down, but at least the white foamy fog now gave way to the clarity of a pitch black night.  I fumbled to turn the keys again in the ignition, wondering to myself why I bothered to turn it off.  With the roar of the engine, I quickly flicked the switch to turn on the headlights.  The light erupted into the darkness revealing the road ahead.

And that’s when I saw her…

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