Notes from the road pt 1

Notes From the Road
Chapter 1
The road looks different when you travel closer to it, I'm talking here about the desert roads that snake all across the Nevada desert but it applies to all tarmaced spaces everywhere. From the driving seat of your car or the passenger seat of a bus it can start to look like a black ribbon snaking off into the distance. A guiding line, guarding against the encroaches of the wild. A straight strip of civilisation taming the desert like a brand mark of domestication on Americas backside. You might think you know it pretty well after all this experience but when its whipping along a inch or so away from your head you tend to get a totally different perspective. It occurs to you just how hard and unforgiving roads are compared to the soft and jelly-like you. There were three of us in Branches truck that day. Branch, or Bran as he preferred, had been with me for many hundreds of miles now. He looked like he had been forged in Detroit rather than born in Maine but as with many men his size he was a gentle giant preferring to use the threat of violence his bulk implied rather than actual physicality. He was however, an ideal travelling companion. Observant, bright and not prone to fill the empty miles with empty chatter. When he spoke, in that deep rumbling baritone of his, people listened, desperate to glean the knowledge contained within this man mountain. The other, Pancho was a much more recent companion and had already fallen into our bad graces. His name belied the pasty white skin covering his narrow frame and the thin reedy voice that stank of a patchwork education with no desire to learn more than how to open a beer and shoot a rifle, often at the same time. We had picked him up at a rest stop just south of Sympathy, Arizona. It was Branch's choice as it was Branch's truck we were travelling in. We had actually bought the truck together deciding that it would be more frugal to have our own ride rather than rely on the whims of strangers. And a lot of the drivers were very strange with odd habits which, once they had picked you up, they loved to share with their captive audience. Captive 'till at least the next town which could be a good four hours or a very bad four hours depending on the trip. Once our/his the truck was acquired we felt it our duty to pick up hikers wherever possible and offer them a normal ride with no pigs sharing the cab or strange stains on the inside of the roof. The first person we granted our favour to was Pancho who was standing, blinking by the side of the rest stop in the noonday sun whilst there was an abundance of shade not 10 yards away. "Let's pick him up," my erstwhile companion intoned and had swung the pickup around before I could begin to voice my concerns about the type of person that purposefully suffers around the suns glare. Branch pulled up alongside him and it was our unspoken agreement that I always start any conversations to be had with strangers. "Hey friend, where are you heading?" "New York," he said. "That's a long journey," I replied. "Can we take you part of the way? I think there should be a bus station in Desperation that should help you on your way." He grabbed his pack and swung it into the flatbed."Thank you! That'd be mighty neighbourly of ya!" He sat uncomfortably between Branch and I and as the miles rolled away never let his jaw stop for one second, afraid maybe that once it stopped he might never get it started up again. He talked endlessly about his dreams of a better life in New York, how he had come from 'The arsepit of Texas' , and every sexual encounter he'd ever had. These were the worst. They all involved him wooing a reluctant girl, bedding her (in great great detail) and then once he had his way, leaving her alone begging for more. Boring the first time but unspeakably tedious after the twentieth, especially when all that had changed was the name. I began looking for the road signs that symbolised my freedom from this burden, each decreasing digit a welcome sight on the almost empty road. Pancho was wildly gesticulating again when his left arm caught Branch a resounding crack above the eye. His hands went up to his damaged temple, throwing us in a spin over the edge of the road which resulted in the truck flipping over onto its roof and continuing along the road. Branch was firmly wedged in his seat and I had taken to wearing my seat belt but Pancho had crashed to the roof of the cab amongst all the other detritus of our trip, candy wrappers and coke cans. Through my open window I could see the tarmac disconcertingly close and above my head. The majestic view I had been enjoying out of my window above the endless prattle had been reduced to a few inches wide and a lot more urgent. Pancho was celebrating this exciting new turn of events on the roof whooping and hollering like a mad monkey. Branch caught my eye whilst we were both hanging there and from the expression glaring across the cab to me, I knew Pancho's days travelling with us were numbered. The car ground to a halt on its side in the ground about 500 yards away from where our upside down adventure had started. Pancho was still beaming as we extracted ourselves from the womb like cab and I had to birth myself through the window as the door had buckled into the frame. The accident didn't stop Pancho from his inane chatter as Branch took a firm hold of the side of the van and with a Herculean effort flipped it back onto its waiting wheels. Astoundingly aside from deep scoring marks on the roof and the adrenaline fluttering in my heart everything looked as normal, except there was a darkness in my silent friends' face that had not been there before. "Gee after all that excitement I've gotta take a whizz," announced Pancho who still hadn't made any kind of apology for nearly causing our demise. He disappeared behind the nearest rock formation as Branch continued to inspect the vehicle. He turned his enormous head towards me. "Get in." I was still slightly traumatised by the experience otherwise I would have put up some kind of defence on Panchos' behalf. But as it was I climbed in unthinkingly as Bran threw out the bundle of rags Pancho had brought with him and started the engine. As we roared away into the distance I could see Pancho running out into the clearing voicing his protest. We left him with his trousers around his ankles jumping up and down in fury. I stared at Branch for some time. He knew what I was thinking but not saying about not abandoning people to the dangers of the wilds. He turned and looked at me. "Better dead by the desert than by these hands," he said, savouring each syllable as if he had a finite resource he didn't want used up needlessly. "Yeah," I said, "I'm sure he can reach that gas station we passed a ten miles or so ago. He can get a lift from there." It could be my imagination but Bran looked a little disappointed by this revelation. We drove on into the dusk.