Driving in the Fog - White Chasms
The fog was so dense I couldn’t see through it to the streetlights on the side of the expressway. Overhead signs that announced the next exit were invisible until they were on top of me. But I knew what each one said without reading. I’d driven the same stretch for 9 years, the curves were familiar and the potholes were memorized. They stayed memorized until the next winter, when plows tore open new chasms in the pavement. Occasionally I came across another lonely traveler. Red taillights gleamed through the white sheet of fog like the devil’s eyes – they beckoned to me. I flew by those eyes and chanced a look over to see who else was on the same road. A woman hunched over her steering wheel hoping to see through the fog, a man in a striped dress shirt heading to church perhaps, a young girl moving her head to silent music, oblivious to anything else. I flew by these other early morning movers and made my way to my destination.
"Some things never wash away" - Fog by Radiohead
Heat blasted away the below freezing temperature, the radio played dance music, and the speedometer steadily climbed as the fog drifted apart to let me glide through. The headlights of the weary few faded into the mist and disappeared. Still I flew on, hugged curves and watched the white line at the side of the road for guidance. I felt free racing at a high speed through the white shroud that hid the future, the next sign. I was exhilarated by the blinded path to my destination; by the risk I might miss something important in my haste. Once or twice my nerves did get to me and I slowed the pace while I pierced the fog with my eyes, looked for hidden curves or forgotten dips. The nerves didn’t last long before I shook them off and pressed the pedal harder once again. I was the lady of the road, alone in my pursuit of conquering the fog that threatened my being. I felt powerful and vibrant as I waged that war.
Then the fog cleared and I saw him in front of me. A majestic being loomed in the dark, my headlights penetrated his shadow and I focused my eyes, I brought them out of the distance and into the present. I swerved with all my might, too much might, to miss hitting him and I felt my truck tilt to the left as it lost touch with the curve. I felt the bumps and flips as my truck tumbled end over end and I wondered why I had thought I was brave and smart enough to take on nature. I wondered if I would live to reach my final destination and I wondered if the fog had found a sneaky way to win the war.
After reading this, please visit my friend's beautiful photographical poem about the fog
- Unrelenting Fog - Photo Gallery
Fog is so mysterious. It can be scary, wet, suffocating, beautiful, or blinding. It can hang low or hug the ground.
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