July 26, 2010
from the comments
There is a wind-storm and I am probably sixteen or seventeen, driving along a single-lane country road in my Ford F150 truck. It’s been windy for a few days, by now, and this road is elevated slightly, with a drainage ditch on either side, but no brush. Farmland. A single row of telephone poles are on the left side of the road, and I am probably driving too fast — the wind is pushing against the truck, which somehow makes me feel not only invincible but impossibly cool. Even though I know the road is deserted, I look behind me in the driver’s side mirror and think “That is so odd, the poles are sideways.” I realize that they are falling and I look up and see them begin to fall in front of me and one is about to hit my car. I turn the wheel sharply and start driving over the tilled soil. For some reason it doesn’t occur to me to slow down. I drive to the edge of the field, and get back on the road. Other cars are here now and they’ve stopped. The road is completely blocked, back for a ways since as one pole started to fall it brought all the others with it.
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