The tires on the black pavement circled around and around as Bob Dylan’s whiny voice flowed through the car and into my ears. The pavement was black and hot with the sun’s rays in the midst of summer. I shifted my gaze to the boy in the driver’s seat, his hair long, and the sun’s rays lighting up and making his hair golden. I strummed my fingers on the window to the beat of the music that filled the car’s interior.
The girl in the back seat shifted in her sleep, creating a crunching sound on the leather seat. Her ear buds effectively blocked out Bob Dylan, so she stayed lost in her own sleep. The boy next to me was sucked into driving, so I turned my head back to the window.
The evergreen trees flew past in a blur, as we rolled along on the sun soaked pavement. With the window cracked, I could smell that distinctive smell of warming pavement. It smelled like summer right before it begins to rain and the air grows quiet and cool and you feel a chill in your heart and you pause for a moment and for some reason you feel like you’ll never be happy again when you look at the dark blue sky but then suddenly the sky lets loose of all its rage and then rain comes pouring down onto the sun soaked pavement and the smell of the tar consumes the air and you almost can’t breathe with the wet heat.
“We should stop and get gas.” The boys voice seemed to fill me the same way Bob Dylan’s had.
A half an hour later, he pulled the car into a gas station and he woke the girl in the back seat by telling her we were stopping to get gas. Her eyes blinked open slowly as she registered the world around her. She was still heavy with sleep.
He pulled up to pump seven, and I watched him get out the car. I could smell his leather jacket faintly, and when he opened the door I could smell the sunshine and the road too. I heard her shuffle around behind me and fumble for something, probably her wallet.
“I’m going to get a snack,” she said. She opened the door behind and it clicked shut. I knew she’d be out in a minute or so.
I love them.
Katie Schools '15