Lanes Lane

The two-lane highway stretched and dipped over the barren landscape, snaking every few miles. Creosote plants, shrubs of Mormon Tea, and the occasional dilapidated house were the only breaks in endless sand. It was close to noon on a hot June day, 1997. Sunbeams were bouncing off the metallic-blue ’74 Plymouth Duster. Two white pinstripes raced down its sides and …