Driving in the Dark

11:57pm

Why won’t they leave already? We’ve made our closing announcements, the doors have been locked for 12 minutes, my work-study students and I want to go home. We don’t technically shut down the library for another 3 minutes, but it’s late and it’s cold outside and I want to curl up under my bedsheets, hold a pillow between my knees, pull my blanket up to my chin, right now. Right now. 

11:58pm

An hour drive home. It’s all I can think about. Past the P&G facility, the Sheetz, the adult bookstore, seven miles of cornfields on Route 696, through the twisting and winding roads of Route 997, over the mountains of the Lincoln Highway, one quarter around the Gettysburg town square, home. 

My grad student’s loud sigh signals one more minute has passed. 

11:59pm

I finally hear undergraduate feet trudging up the main staircase from the basement study level, sleepy voices lamenting projects and essays and exams. The final four late-night studiers are making their way out, I send the work-study students home, tug my hat on over my head, zip up my coat, lock my office, say goodnight to the third-shift custodial staff, and walk the quarter mile to my car—my keys between my fingers. You never know.  

12:01am

I am the only one in the parking lot. Campus is eerie in the yellow streetlight glow, the March wind at my back imitates someone breathing on my neck. I jump into my Honda, click the doors to lock, throw my bag on the passenger seat, start it up, plug my phone into the aux, navigate to my Late Night Drive playlist. “Homeward Bound” starts up and the smooth croon of Simon & Garfunkel puts me at ease. 

12:03am

I pull out of the parking lot, turn left on Prince Street. Stop sign. Stop sign. “No Turn on Red” light at King Street. Now on the main street. Red lights at Penn Street, Earl Street, Fayette Street. I truly have the traffic patterns in this town down to a science. 

12:07am

Finally out of the borough, I speed up, certain that I have four more red lights to hit before I’m in the midst of cornfields. Or…maybe not. Green. Green. Green…Green. Success! It’s the little things. 

12:12am

Riding parallel to I-81 on Route 696, The Cranberries start singing “Ode to My Family,” and all I have to do is think. I’ll have to put together performance reviews soon…They’ve overall done a better job this semester than the last…Well…I suppose there are a few outliers…I think I’m too nice…Need to toughen up a bit, no more excuses… 

12:20am

Soft rain, thunder, a jazzy bass and drumline come through my car’s speakers. Yes. Jim Morrison’s mellow voice hits just right. I have a hard time picking favorites—of anything—but this is probably my favorite song. Probably. 

Riders on the storm / riders on the storm.

I turn left at the McDonald’s onto 997 when the light turns green. Not another soul in sight. Almost halfway home. 

12:21am

There’s a killer on the road.

Ugh. I see another car’s headlights in my rearview window, approaching quickly. I have to admit that driving in the middle of the night has its perks. A singular perk, really. I appreciate that I am—nine times out of ten—the only car on the road. 

I glance in my rearview again, they’re gaining quickly, getting much too close for comfort. I maintain my speed, careful not to panic. Route 997 is lousy with tailgaters, I’m used to it. I will not accelerate. 50mph will have to suffice. 

They’re soon right behind me, a hair’s width of space between us. 

12:22am

The world on you depends / Our life will never end.

They’re right on my tail, so close I can’t see their headlights in my mirror—only dull, yellow halos shine. I can feel my heartbeat pick up. It’s okay. This happens all the time. We’ll hit Route 30 and they’ll be able to pass me. Or they’ll turn off somewhere. I’m cool, calm, collected. It’s pitch-black out, the only light coming from the moon and the stars. Naturally, I turn on my high beams…then, INSTANTLY. 

They cut their lights. I can’t even see a glow of a headlight behind me anymore, they’ve turned them completely off. When I could still see them, they were so close that with one tap of my brakes, they would head straight into my bumper. Now there’s nothing. 

I don’t know if they’ve turned down another road, don’t know if they’re still behind me, don’t understand what they could possibly gain from driving like this in the dark. 

I can see another car’s headlights approaching up ahead, coming our way. Something about seeing this stranger driving towards me is comforting. They’re getting closer…closer…as they pass me going the opposite direction, their headlights illuminate my tailgater. I can see their dark, ferocious lights glare at me in my side-view mirror. 

If I slow down, I will wreck. 

If I speed up, I will wreck.

Still maintaining my speed, my increasing heartbeat warns me that there is no safe exit. 

12:26am

Into this world we’re thrown.

I feel a sudden change in the atmosphere. Jerking left over the double yellow, accelerating past me over the hills and around an elbow curve, I see it’s a black Dodge Neon. 

No plates. 

They keep their lights off. 

I don’t see them again. 

My cheeks are wet. Vision blurry, throat closing up, nose running. Suck it up. You’re fine. 

Riders on the storm / Riders on the storm / Riders on the storm / Riders on the storm

12:28am

I use the red light at the Lincoln Highway to steady my heartbeat. Breathe in and out, in and out. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. Natalie Merchant is singing “One Fine Day.” One fine day my ass. 

Green light. Turn left. 

12:29am

There’s no one else out right now, no headlights, no taillights, nothing. Just how I usually like it. I know I’m still a little spooked; every tree branch looks like a person on the shoulder trying to hitchhike. I’m almost waiting for a strange man to claw at my passenger door, or rip off my side mirror, or……

Did I just imagine the whole thing? Am I so exhausted that my mind is playing tricks on me? I can’t prove it, I don’t even understand what happened. It’s just a story now. 

12:35am

Mr. Ed’s Elephant Museum and Candy Emporium has hung their scraggly trees with Easter eggs and other pastel decorations. A shiver tingles my spine and I reach to turn up the heat. It won’t go any further, so I blast the fans instead. 

I have to work on Easter.

My mind goes completely blank and I sink into my music. Almost home. 

12:44am

I pass the first gas station in 15 miles. $4.29 per gallon. A little cheaper than everything else in the area. I’m running low, will have to fill up before work tomorrow. 

12:49am

Red light on Baltimore Street, as usual. It’s Tuesday. Well, I guess it’s actually Wednesday. Two more days of this, then the weekend. Start over on Sunday. My bones ache. Too young to be grinding my teeth this sharply. Green light. I turn right on High, left down the alley. Stop sign. I pull into the narrow space in my parents’ detached garage, shut the garage door, cut my engine. Sit and contemplate every single life decision that has led me to this. Why didn’t I become a nurse? An engineer? When everyone told me that I could only teach with an English degree, why didn’t I just do that? 

12:52am

My key slides right into the lock of our kitchen door in the back of the house, and I’m immediately hit with a warm, sticky-sweet smell. Cinnamon buns. Mom does this occasionally, leaves little sweet things out for me to snack on like I’m back in 6th grade getting home from school. 

It’s the little things. 

Should I indulge right before bed? You were just at work for 11 hours. Not counting the hour to drive there, and the hour to drive back. Eat one. Then sleep. 

1:05am

My stomach is full; teeth are brushed; hair in a bun; sweatpants on; alarm set for 9…

Curled up under my bedsheets……pillow between my knees………

Blanket up to my chin…………………

Spring 2023