Few things

I've never been able to figure out why driving on the interstate always feels so right to me. Right now I'm heading south on 81 with my cruise set to 67 because my Nana is following me. Lovely lady but a speed demon she isn't. It's for the best though because I'm tired, dehydrated and not familiar with this car.

I love the way 81 curves and how, even after 24 years of living next to it, I can't always predict what's around the next bend. No other road feels this right to me, though I enjoy the challenge and novelty of unknown landscapes. I've always had an unhealthy amount of wanderlust and it seems to me that this might explain my fascination with overlooks, trains, old gas stations.

The mountains are covered with a haze today and all the grass is yellowing. I'm driving to the New River Valley for the first time in months. I look for shapes in clouds and trees while I drive and they're beautiful but I am scared I'll miss signs or billboards if I always keep my eyes trained elsewhere. I think our brains just can't process everything when there's so much like mountains and hills and trucks and signs. One thing at a time, I guess. Like the wildflowers on the hills.