Devonne Brown

It only took a few seconds to find out that I was completely and utterly lost. That’s what careful planning and a world class GPS got me, lost. The drive through Texas was one road, one lane, one shot, no turns. As straight forward as you could get with or without tumbleweeds. You couldn’t get lost on that road if you tried, but get off the road and try to buy a red slushie at Go Mart, I got my ass turned around six ways to Sunday. 

In the middle of nowhere, where there aren’t any familiar markers or stores, and all the GPS says is “proceed to the route,” in any direction I turn, I get the heebeejeebies. I’m the kind of lost that makes me want to sit down and cry lost, not just walk and look over the next hill lost, but lost like in outer space lost. Like no one can hear you scream lost. Helpless.

I open a can of Diet Coke, my go to drink. It’s bubbles and fizz, they comfort me. I think while the liquid goes down my throat. I’m stranded in an island of oncoming traffic, the center lane, the suicide lane. The lights surround me, daring me to move, “Proceed to the route,” I hear again. 

“What route?” There’s no U-turn marked, no left, no right, just forward. That can’t be right. I came in from the left to get a slushie that I can’t stand now. I had to open a Diet Coke to calm my nerves. I need to get back on that long road to somewhere. The one with no turns and all the tumbleweeds. 

I pull out in traffic and follow the GPS, I proceed to the route blindly and I find the long straight road again. Heading west toward the sunset. I can’t see the roadtrip, I don’t have a map. I hear a voice that I trust from my phone through my speakers that tells me the way. 

Last chance for gas and water for two hundred miles. Buckle up buttercup, you’re going through the desert where the bodies are buried and never found. Don’t get out of your car from here until the next rest stop. May the force be with you.