Loneliness masquerading as love, fueled by whiskey and cinematic kisses can never end well. I think that’s what you said, verbatim, when I told you I was doing this. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this will end in heartache painted across the highway. Its entrails left to linger like that of the roadkill we’ve rolled past recently. I hope not. I know you feel differently though, and want this to come to a screeching halt. Burned rubber fused with crimson heartache. I struggle with that thought.

We’ll run out of blacktop and dirt at some point I suppose, but it won’t be today. I’m having one hell of a time and I plan to ride into as many sunsets as I can with Grace. All while embracing every breath drawn during this adventure. Whether it was love at first sight like Grace believes, or lust holding hands with the lonely as you believe, what does it really matter? When Grace smiles she lights up my darkest days. That’s what matters. I’m just asking that you try to understand where I’m coming from, and where I’m headed.

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I’m also asking for something else. We’re running out of cash and will be coasting on fumes soon. Hopefully we won’t have to exercise our thumbs with one foot on a gas can. On the bright side, we scraped together enough change for coffee this morning thanks to the emergency fund between the cushions in the backseat. That treasure trove is tapped out now. Just as well I suppose. Cashiers haven’t taken kindly to marathon sessions of change counting accompanied by a chorus of sighs. No matter where we find ourselves people are in a hurry to go nowhere.

I know you don’t think my head is screwed on straight right now, and you literally swore you weren’t going to fund this “insanity”, but we could really use a little help. Once we dust ourselves off in a town big enough for me to open my guitar case I’ll pay you back. I swear on the dashboard Jesus you gave me. Think about it. Please. I’ll call you to figure it out.  

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Grace just jumped in beside me and is unfurling a road map straight out of the 60s. She says hi by the way. She likes you despite the words shared when we left. I’m holding out hope that my two favourite women can utter an honest hello one day. Maybe I’ll save the next penny I find for that wish, or maybe there’s no well deep enough to grant it. Maybe all I have is material for new familiar lyrics dipped in tears. I understand.

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We’re five hundred miles from Nashville tonight and sipping on the most glorious moonshine our eyes have ever tasted. I remember you once comforted me by saying we howl at the same moon no matter where we find ourselves. I always smile at that thought. I hope tonight’s moon bridges the distance between us and brings you a smile too.