As I've been driving I've noticed that truckers who
are being passed by another truck flash their lights
when the passing truck clears the front of their cab.
It's part prudence, I guess, since distances are hard
to judge from a side view mirror, and no one wants to
get slapped with the back end of a semi, even another
semi. But one assumes someone with a license to drive
a rig like that can probably manage to pass without
wiping the road with the other vehicle, so it makes it
courtesy, too. Like holding a door you could get for
yourself. A nice gesture.

I've noticed, too, that the passing truck, regardless
of whether or not it returns to the right lane,
flashes its back lights back, twice.

Tonight I experimented. A big rig passed me, and as
the second trailer cleared the front of my Escape, I
flicked my lights at him. There was a pause, then he
moved over in front of me and flashed his back lights.

I'd been feeling lonely, like there was far too much
Wyoming and Nebraska to be reasonably borne.

That made me feel oddly better.

Things like that: signs, and connections.


**


My dad was right about Reno. He said the casinos are cheaper to stay at than the motels. Sure enough, I got a $25 dollar room at the El Dorado.

Sweet.

My dad and Jeni stuck around for hours to help shift stuff, and wrapped up all our art in towels (Jeni was sort of quietly shocked and dismayed that we didn't have real bona fide packing materials, but she sucked it up bravely and did a nice job with the linens anyway).

It was a nice gesture, and indicative of how much things have changed, over the years.

My mom claimed my dad knew about the abuse all along.

The more I get to know him, sober now, mellower, the more I'm sure she lied.

Relieved to come to that conclusion.

**
- posted by Kate @ 12:29 AM