Having recently added a few thousand miles to my odometer, I discovered an amazing behavior on the highway. I started my journey from Dallas to Chicago, I had set my goal to be at St. Louis by evening, merely 600 miles and 10 hours of drive to spend the night at a friend’s place. as I distanced myself from Dallas, my second home after India, my longing for friends grew stronger and as I was all set to take a U-turn after a hundred miles or so, there came a friend, the friend on the highway. So how did I get a friend the high-way?
For the last few months I have been driving alone for hours and like me many a people I find on the move. All the while I look for someone to talk to, share with, laugh at, compete with and fight with. And there he comes driving a Buick, an eighty’s Merc, an worn-out Tacoma looking for a friend to compete on the deserted highway, stretched for miles and that becomes our playground till the exit separates us. I step on the gas and there screams my lovely Elantra hinting her limits. The Tacoma gives the way to the lady and then as I shift to the right lane and invite the babe to chase, she responds. The Tacoma whizzes past again to slow down for me. All we do is entertain our monotonous journey of life, color our moments and give a damn to the melting tar.
We are not alone, sometimes Kishore, Shaan, Rafi and sometimes Brad Paisley accompany us and I am sure they too have fun. This high nicotine and benzene game has become a part of my life. As we drive for hours chasing each others life we become friends, the high-way. I alias her with the name of the car and I believe she would be doing the same for me. So as I enjoy the company of the lady in the tough Tacoma, She must be longing for the guy in the gorgeous Elantra. We talk through the engine rolling and tires screeching, exchange smiles and appreciate each other in the race and thank for being a good sport. Sometimes I wish this race never ends.
Then comes the time to separate. Like a real life love, this too takes its own time to hint that the two souls would distance, the time has come. Time slows down, the speedometer at seventy miles per hour shifts to the fifties as the right indicator starts blinking, you know its time. I look at her for the one last time as the distance between us widens with the fork at the exit 44B. Time freezes, frames move in a slow motion with the ‘Whiskey Lullaby’ filling in the background. Heart aches once again as I loose another friend Tacoma, someone I knew for the last eighty miles. I know, we never gonna meet but friends made the High-Way go the high-way. Yet another little life and sweet moments lived on the highway.
