It's barely three in the afternoon on a weekday and I'm already sitting with an empty Shiner bottle to my left and a half a bag of bakes Cheetos on my right. This is about as close to a moment of weakness I get these days.
I've been on the road for one year. One year of diesel lanes and height restrictive bars; waking up to vacuums on the floor above me, attempting to place accents to determine what state I've just slept in.
Recently, it's been Texas. Lately, the accent's been mine.
The van and I died today. Me, parting ways with it like a mother leaving her first born in kindergarten. My hand slowly sliding down glass window built into the door, my hesitant steps to leave. Despite my insistance, they assured me things would be fine, I'd be more comfortable if I left for a while and returned at four.
So now I sit waiting, with nothing to distract me, wondering where I'll pick up in this situation during the van-free winter months to come.
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But if I ever leave here I hope never to return
If I get that van back man, the road I'm gonna burn
Right now my future's in the hands of them boys down at Firestone
Stuck in Indianapolis, feelin' all alone.
Perfect lyrical changes. That song will no doubt be stuck in my head the rest of the day.
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