You rarely see storytelling this clear on the highway. Usually the story is harder to find – lurking out of sight behind and underneath and diffused through the wheels winding steadily, the music lending its customary aura of surreality, the lives overlapping for seconds or less. Usually you have to coax storytelling from under the couch with a biscuit and a smile, have to pry it out with your teeth.
But wait, there it was on the dotted white line – a piece of tire resting, curved towards the sky. A little further, a few more blackrubbery chunks tossed by the winds of passing cars, and a little further, two limos stopped under a bridge, drivers out with their formal shirtsleeves rolled up, changing the left rear tire on the black one. Bang! storytelling.

Overheard on the quad, 15 March 2004:
“…It’s not your major, it’s not what job you get, it’s not even who you marry!
“The most important question in life is this: What will you do with the man Jesus, called Christ?”
People were standing around a bald, slowlypacing man (it was raining a little) and I thought, Have a gun ready in case he actually does come back.
* * * * *
You rarely see storytelling like this on the highway. Usually the drive itself is the story – wheels grinding themselves to oblivion, music lending aura of surreality, lives overlapping for seconds or less.
But wait, there is was on the dotted white line – a piece of rubber, maybe a third of a tire’s worth. A little further, a few more chunks were blown by passing cars, and a little further, two limos stopped under a bridge, drivers out with their sleeves rolled up, changing the left rear tire on the black one. Bang! storytelling.