By Rose Ann Penney
Get Off the Road!There is no dark like the dark of the mountains when there is no moon. Darkness falls, like air seeping from a balloon until you are left with only the darkness inside. You attach your life to an insignificant strip of asphalt, dimly lit by headlights which seem less bright than they should, darkness sucking their energy into the night. Too soon and the lights shoot out over a chasm as the next switchback jerks your car around the edge of the mountain.
Now you are staring, hypnotized by the double beams, not daring to glance left or right. The blackness presses in on you from all sides and you’ve forgotten the massive hulk of mountain stone which must be on one side as you begin to hallucinate. Imagining yourself on an island that collapses behind you and recreates itself just a few feet in front. Over and over, collapsing, rebuilding. You wonder if it will build fast enough for the speed you are travelling.
A car’s lights loom in your mirror and your prayers answered, you slow down and he passes. Now you at least have dim red buttons to follow revealing the sharp curves ahead. Of course, unless he misjudges and then you will follow him out into the nothingness.
Too fearful to match his speed, you cry, “Wait for me!” as he passes out of view.
It has been three hours and a new terror approaches. A semi roars into view barreling around the last curve shining too-bright lights into your mirror. It is a monster, invisible except for the lights outlining its boxy shape, and a new chant forms on your lips “Please let his brakes hold, please let…”
You can almost hear him as he passes on your left, “If you can’t keep up, get off the road!” Which you gladly would, if only there was a place to get off. There had been no services for miles and now you are worried about the gas-guzzler you are driving. There is a button somewhere to change the display but your hands are frozen to the wheel, eyes glued on the road.
Then it begins. Dots of light just outside your field of vision, you think at first are stars. As you concentrate harder they twinkle brighter. You try closing just one eye, resting it for a few seconds and then the other. But the road shifts from side to side with your focusing and you have to stop.
There is no shoulder and you are close to putting on your flashers and stopping right there in the middle of the lane. But vestiges of logical thought realize a semi, careening around curves behind you will not see you in time, so you keep your foot on the gas.
The darkness presses in until even the rest of your car fades from consciousness. It’s just you and the high beams. Nothing else exists and panic hijacks rational thought. Questions, like a tide of vomit rise in your throat.
What if your eyes fail? Is it possible for them to just stop working? Just like that. Can nerves short out? What if a blood vessel breaks flooding your eyeballs and blocking the light? What if your brain shuts off refusing to process the signals from your eyes? Can someone really go bind in the darkness?
Lights ahead! The dimly lit outlines of a half dozen semis come into view. Ignoring the blinking “Trucks Only” sign, you pull off the road into the turn out.
Your partner yawns, “Are we there yet?”
Now you are staring, hypnotized by the double beams, not daring to glance left or right. The blackness presses in on you from all sides and you’ve forgotten the massive hulk of mountain stone which must be on one side as you begin to hallucinate. Imagining yourself on an island that collapses behind you and recreates itself just a few feet in front. Over and over, collapsing, rebuilding. You wonder if it will build fast enough for the speed you are travelling.
A car’s lights loom in your mirror and your prayers answered, you slow down and he passes. Now you at least have dim red buttons to follow revealing the sharp curves ahead. Of course, unless he misjudges and then you will follow him out into the nothingness.
Too fearful to match his speed, you cry, “Wait for me!” as he passes out of view.
It has been three hours and a new terror approaches. A semi roars into view barreling around the last curve shining too-bright lights into your mirror. It is a monster, invisible except for the lights outlining its boxy shape, and a new chant forms on your lips “Please let his brakes hold, please let…”
You can almost hear him as he passes on your left, “If you can’t keep up, get off the road!” Which you gladly would, if only there was a place to get off. There had been no services for miles and now you are worried about the gas-guzzler you are driving. There is a button somewhere to change the display but your hands are frozen to the wheel, eyes glued on the road.
Then it begins. Dots of light just outside your field of vision, you think at first are stars. As you concentrate harder they twinkle brighter. You try closing just one eye, resting it for a few seconds and then the other. But the road shifts from side to side with your focusing and you have to stop.
There is no shoulder and you are close to putting on your flashers and stopping right there in the middle of the lane. But vestiges of logical thought realize a semi, careening around curves behind you will not see you in time, so you keep your foot on the gas.
The darkness presses in until even the rest of your car fades from consciousness. It’s just you and the high beams. Nothing else exists and panic hijacks rational thought. Questions, like a tide of vomit rise in your throat.
What if your eyes fail? Is it possible for them to just stop working? Just like that. Can nerves short out? What if a blood vessel breaks flooding your eyeballs and blocking the light? What if your brain shuts off refusing to process the signals from your eyes? Can someone really go bind in the darkness?
Lights ahead! The dimly lit outlines of a half dozen semis come into view. Ignoring the blinking “Trucks Only” sign, you pull off the road into the turn out.
Your partner yawns, “Are we there yet?”