Drive

I step into my car to drive from my apartment to my house. 46.7 Miles.

I do not have enough gas to make the trip so I stop by the closest gas station, which is charging $2.539 per gallon. I pay $32.77 to the BP corporation to fill up my tank, despite the recent oil spill.

When I get back on the road, I look at the Distance To Empty reading on the dash. It says 127 Miles. This is wrong by approximately 300 miles.

I listen to Breakfast of Champions as I drive and zone in and out of the story. Audiobooks.

As I pass through the town of Bishop I think about going straight onto Madison instead of taking the turn that would lead me home. I've rarely gone back there in the 3 years since high school. Today I will.

This adds 11.4 miles to my trip. 58.1.

On the drive I notice a police officer driving behind me at the exact same spot that I received a speeding ticket on my 18th birthday. I was driving 82 miles per hour that night. I am driving 51 miles per hour right now. The speed limit is 55. I do not get pulled over.

After the police car passes me and speeds up to the 70 miles per hour that the rest of the traffic travels, I notice a sign on the side of the road that reads, "$1200 Fine, Throwing Trash on Highway." $1200 would pay for 1/3 of a semester at the University of Georgia. 24 Wendy's cups would pay for a college education.

I pull into the town of Madison and get to the traffic light outside my school. I can turn right and drive by the place that I graduated or through the neighborhood that some of my friends live in. I can look at the little yellow house that I wanted to buy 4 years ago and keep for the rest of my life. There is a perfect, fenced in, backyard where my dog can stay. But he can come inside too, if he wants. It's a short trip to the local school, so my children would never have to make the commute that I did to get to their classes. I would go to every one of their soccer games. The light turns green and I drive straight.

I decide that I don't want to go downtown. I don't really want to be in this town at all. I'll go to Wal-Mart. Maybe I'll see someone I actually wouldn't mind seeing. I have mixed feelings. I park in the spot facing the security camera. Old habits.

I'm in Wal-Mart and instantly regret it. I feel awkward and out of place. I don't see anyone I know from school, but everyone looks exactly like they did 4 years ago. Nothing changes in Wal-Mart. I circle the outer perimeter of the store. I go through the electronics and toward the pet supplies. I cut through the board games and head for the door. It is the same path I always took in high school when wasting time in this store. I avoid looking at anyone in particular, but I try to give off an air of confidence just in case anyone recognizes me. Maybe they'll think, "Hey, that guy might suck less now."

I think of stopping by Chick-Fil-A on my way out of town. I've been spending too much money lately. The gas station next to the interstate has a price of $2.439. I could have saved $1.30. $1.30 cannot buy much.

I pass the spot that used to be a Taco Bell as I turn onto the interstate. It is still not a Taco Bell.

Take this road for 15.6 miles. I have satisfied my desire to go to Madison for now. I would not be surprised if I never go back. I would not be surprised if I ended up in Illinois after this year and live there for the rest of my life. I keep telling myself I'll live and work in Atlanta. I'm afraid to leave this comfort zone. There are people here that I'm all right with. There is a tiny spider on my steering wheel. I wonder if it glows in the dark. I swerve as I move my hand to end its existence and almost hit an 18 wheeler. I could die. I don't. My family lives in Illinois. Maybe I should.

I sneeze and the cd stops. That's weird. Then I hear: "Chapter 15."

Exit 130. Gas $2.69. 8 seconds further there is a sign for gas at the Home Depot for $2.53. Anyone getting off the interstate would not see this, nor have any reason to believe there is another gas station for miles. They would pay $2.69.

Vonnegut begins to describe in detail the penis sizes of several characters within the book. I become curious about my own penis dimensions.

I see a frog jump near the front of my car. It takes another jump closer, and another jump in front. I am not sure whether it jumped under my tire or past it. It could be dead. This is the fourth time a frog has done this in my lifetime. That seems like too many times. It happened three times during my senior year of high school while I was traveling to or from that same friend's house. It would have been nice to see her at Wal-Mart.

I'm home.