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.