The sun slowly sets behind the Blue Ridge Mountains.
The full moon is rising, casting a shining white light over the Shenandoah Valley.
A freight train weighted with many cars behind it speeds along the tracks to the side of me.
Driving along a narrow, dirt road on the outskirts of Keezletown, I feel as tired as a trucker.
I hear the sound of the freight train clattering along it’s path.
The clattering sound becomes fainter and fainter in the distance.
I listen to the faint, crackling sound of the AM radio.
As I drive on, 550 AM fades away and I switch the radio off.
The only sound I hear now is the engine noise of my 1968 Dodge Charger.
My mind wanders and bounces through thoughts like a kid on a trampoline.
I shake my head to clear my mind, refocusing on driving.
I shift into fourth gear and accelerate, driving through the night.
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