On the Road Again

The music vibrated the walls, the table, and her bloodflow. Someone had taken great care to ensure that the volume would envelope every audience member without loss of quality. When the sax guy hit that purest of notes, she wanted to cry. When the bass player took her to the depths, she wondered if someone would be available to mop up the melting her that was leftover. And when the drum beat composed her and brought her back to the senses of the whole experience yet again, she beamed.

She loved the Thursday night jam at the R&B dive in the less-than-savory part of the city. The music made by the "you-must-be-good-because-you're-too-damnn-ugly-to-be-the-lead" players in three song sets captured her imagination and took her to places she hadn't realized existed within her. She favored the old black guys. They tore up a song. "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone" had her weepy everytime they took hold of it. And blues? Omg, just don't ask -- feel.

She always drove alone and met friends there. The group was usually eclectic -- young and old, straight and gay, partnered and not, male and female, up and coming and been there done that. They chatted on occasion and listened intently. One of their favorite moments was when the Tamale Guy arrived. He sold aluminum foil wrapped bundles of a dozen tamales for $5 and they were hot and always tasty -- especially after a couple of hours of the beer and/or wine the place kept semi-cool in their less than reliable fridges.

When she drove home (usually in the early morning hours) she kept the convertible's top down. While she knew how to pace herself near closing time, she still thought it best to have the wind in her face and she loved the way it felt in her hair.

The truckers seemed to enjoy it as well.

Especially the dark-haired, mustached one who was matching her speed in a bread truck to her left. First he nodded. Then he smiled. Then he shook his head in . . . what? regret? And then . . . he pointed to the exit ahead.

She'd never do that. Not in her former life. Not in the suits and heels corporate world she was leaving behind for a journey to the next version of her. But this wasn't then. This was the month she would launch her big adventure, trips planned to explore not just the world but what she was made of -- volunteering in Africa with health care, teaching in Taiwan, playing in Australia, and writing about every experience along the way.

Maybe the experiences didn't have to wait until the end of the month. Maybe, they could start at the next exit.

She took it.

He led the way to the parking lot of the 24 hour supermarket that was still bustling with wee morning hour customers. She felt a tinge of relief that at least if she yelled someone might hear her -- not necessarily help her, this was the city after all, but at least there'd be a witness.

She smiled at the back and forth nature of her thinking these days. Adventure/safety, risk/security, spend/save -- she was teetering on a familiar totter.

He took a moment before emerging from the rig. As he walked toward her, she admired his gait -- long strides that suggested a long ride but confidence. His jeans fit nicely. His cotton shirt was a surprise. She hadn't expected him to be a fan of Banana Republic. She noted as he got closer that the dark hair was spiced with wisps of "salt" here.

"Nice ride," he quipped as he placed one hand on the side of the hood and almost rested the other on the trunk. "Certainly an attention-getter . . . as are you."

"Thank you, sir. I'm impressed that you're not offended by the foreign brand," she'd taken a fair bit of crap from the office when she purchased the VW and was truly amazed he wasn't one of the "best made in America" voices.

"Foreign is a state of mind these days. Tell me what is made here. So ... you always take early morning drives with the top down?"

"I do when there's some good music behind me and a few miles ahead of me before I make it home. Plus, in this Texas heat, you can't find too many days to enjoy the wind in your hair."

"True that. 'Course, I'm a bit surprised you're flying solo. No one to listen to good music with? Can't imagine that a woman of your -- taste -- would find that too difficult to achieve."

"Plenty of people that I let go there separate ways when the last not sounded. I'm an extrovert with a taste for solitude as well. What about you? Always solo in that rig?"

"Pretty much. I find my independent lifestyle is not exactly conducive to a longterm relationship. Besides, tonight, it would have been a bit crowded had I seen you . . . "

"Nicely done. Even if you're shoveling at this point, I'm in the mood to hear it. Want to find a drink somewhere? And I'll listen to a bit more before making a decision."

"Decision?"

"As to whether, I want let the nice, friendly puppy follow me home."

"Don't know that I like being compared to a dog, but I definitely like your style. Sure. I've got the time. Where to?"

"There's a place around the corner that doesn't make it known that it's hours are always extended. Get it."

He did. They drove and covered the basics -- first names, home states, current occupations. She was almost startled at his ability to rapid fire the questions at her.

"Were you a journalist in a former life?" she posed.

"Cop," he offered with no commentary.

"Guess I should now feel safe or be concerned as to why you're no longer one of those and are now one of these," she pointed at a passing truck.

"Safe ... if that's what you want. Stimulated if you're looking for more. Afraid? Never. I like this moment and enjoy milking it for what it's worth but only if all agree."

"Ok, now you've got me thinking Buddhist as well."

He said nothing.

"Really? You into a bit of that."

"I like the idea of breathing in and out and recognizing that the act alone is rather amazing, so yeah, I've studied a bit."

"Reading while driving? Can't you get a ticket for that in some states?" she laughed.

"Books on CD and Google is my new best friend."

She had to laugh at the karma or stars or angels that were watching over her. He was intelligent, witty, not bad on the eyes and willing.

The bar was lit by small lamps on the tables. She order a small glass of wine and he asked for a foreign beer that she'd not heard of before.

The initial sip followed a 'salud' and silence held on as they licked their moistened lips.

"So what else you want to know?" he asked.

"Whatever I ask at this point about who you've been doesn't matter much, does it? Since you Mr. Moment, what do you want in this moment?"

"I want the woman who I saw smile across the lanes -- after watching her move to the music that was obviously thoroughly entertaining her -- I want that woman to want me."

"Done. Now what do we do with that?"

"Drink up and . . . usually, I don't get invited to the homeplace on a first 'date,'" he smiled.

"There's nothing usual about this," she said, leaving cash for the check before he could pull a bill and taking him by the hand to the convertible once again.

"If I'd known you longer, you wouldn't have been able to be that fast on the draw with the check," he countered as he almost stumbled upon leaving.

"If I'd known you longer, we might not be leaving. But I've got to do this while I'm ready for it."

Stopping, he made eye contact. "Don't if you're in any way frightened. I'm not trying to hurt you and ... frankly, it won't be that good for either one of us if you're not exactly willing!"

"I'm willing. I've just got to ride the emotional roller coaster until we get there."

He told her stories as they drove the 10 more minutes to her home. He offered up reasons for the career change -- not too unlike her own. He needed to know there was something more. Some days, he found it.

As they entered the apartment, he took the reigns of the evening. Turning her as she removed the keys from the lock and closed the door, he kissed her. She hadn't been with anyone in a few months. She loved remembering the taste of beer on a man's lips. She loved feeling out of control for one second. She loved that she was going to do this.

She waited impatiently to see where this road was heading.