When I awoke, it was raining. Turns out Jon was right, this highway does lead to Las Vegas -- Las Vegas, New Mexico. The store at the gas station where we stopped in Las Vegas sold cosmetics and candy that looked rather old and airbrushed t-shirts memorializing Selena.
I've returned to the front seat. Loren is sleeping. Jon and I are listening to The Cure's Japanese Whispers.
On the horizon, you can tell it's raining miles away. A misty gray curtain of rain hangs far ahead of us. A few drops pelt the windshield.
...
Now we can barely see anything, the rain is so hard. I tell Jon to slow down and turn on the headlights.
...
Finally the rain has let up a bit. At least we can see ahead of us. I watch the windshield wipers. The left one slashes and leaves a spatter painting of rainwater and the right one hurries to wipe it all away. On and on they go in this persistent struggle.
[Note: I never claimed this was my greatest piece of writing.]
