There’s nothing out there, he said. Just darkness. Not even a star out. Pitch black, the old man lit a cigarette, threw the match out the window and watched the wind sweep it out. A semi passed them.

How fast you going? his grandson asked.

Speedometer says seventy. I think it’s broken.

Everything on this truck is broken.

When we get there we’ll save up and get another one, the old man looked at the boy.

Where are we going?


Never been there before.

Neither have I.

The boy rolled down his window and stuck his head out in the cool breeze. Corn. The smell of corn mixed with manure got into his nose. He liked it.

Mom and dad never took me on trips like this, he said. We stayed in Decatur pretty much.

This ain’t no trip, the grandfather said. This is a destination. We’re going to stay there.


In California.

Where in California?

We’ll find a place.

The old man kept driving throughout the night until the sun came up over the mountains in Colorado. The boy was fast asleep. Morning light made towns glow. Streetlights faded out. A police car followed for a little bit, then passed him. He stopped at a flashing red light. Smelled donuts and coffee in the air. Or, was it his imagination.

I’m hungry, the boy said as he woke up. Where are we?


Home of the Rockies.


Two squad cars pulled up behind him. They turned their lights and sirens on. The old man pulled over to the side. Guns were drawn, and the officers told the old man to step out of the vehicle.

It’s been nice knowing you, he said to his grandson.

Do I have to go back to mom and dad’s? the old man nodded his head.

Yep. I imagine so.

They did a fist pump, and the old man got out of his truck. The boy waved as he was placed in the back of the cop car. They just kept looking at each other.

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