Sunday, July 20, 2008
On a long drive when I stop to fill up the car and unload myself at a remote gas station, I feel as though the people who live and work at these places aren't real people who live real lives. It seems as though they only exist within the confines of that road trip and that gas station. They don't have a family. They don't have a bowling league. They don't like a football team. They don't go on trips. They don't go to church. they don't read books. they don't write a blog. They only exist within that gas station. Their single activity is selling Arizona green tea, Doritos and stale coffee to stiff backed, blurry eyed travelers.