He drove until the radio turned to static and the gas needle kissed the E. He drove because the night was over, but the trip—that restless, reckless, beautiful trip—had just begun.
At 3:47 AM, they stopped at a rest area. The vending machine only had peanut butter crackers and flat Sprite. They sat on the hood of the Buick, and the heat had finally broken. A breeze came off the pines. A plane blinked somewhere overhead. night trips 1989
She got in. Her name was Sam. She smelled like cigarettes and honeysuckle. She was running from a boyfriend in Richmond who thought jealousy was romantic. She was nineteen, two years older than Leo, and she laughed when he told her he’d never been past the state line. He drove until the radio turned to static