22
Nov
The snow is really assaulting the windshield as I head for the Louisville junction, the dog turning tight circles in the back, then dropping down into a ball and tucking her nose into her tail, resigning herself to yet another hundred miles of bleak highway. I start drifting off into the past as the world gets dimmer and whiter.
This week, I’m celebrating the 2000 miles I’ve driven in the last two weeks: To places like Cincinnati, Nashville, and along I-74, much like the narrator in this story, to and from Urbana, Illinois. My own ramblings to come, but until then, the tart, if not sweet perspective of one tired driver who leaves to come back home again: Indianapolis (Highway 74): newyorker.com
