Death and Road Trips

by uselessness

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Grandma used to talk about Route 66, the Mother Road, with the kind of dreamy longing that made you sure she was there in the glory days riding Harleys with James Dean himself. The open air, the rebel spirit, the cheap motels spread far and wide. Americana in a two-lane highway.

I loved Grandma. The woman had lived harder than anyone I ever knew in college, and I knew some crazy bastiges. She was still living hard at 63 when she collapsed, gasping, in the kitchen floor of her mobile home, her old Elvis flask spilling out whiskey at her side.

I remember her final moments in the ICU . The hissing oxygen mask, the needles, the IVs pumping her arms full of morphine. I held her hand, that strong, calloused hand, for the first time cold and trembling in the twilight of mortality.

Route 66. The iconic road had not fared well over the years, its pavement cracked and broken like Grandma’s unforgettable varicose shell. It was nearly breakfast time, and with any luck I hoped I could find a decent latte in Albuquerque.

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Comments

Average Reader Rating: 5.0 stars out of 5

  1. Death and Road Trips

    THX 0477's Buddy Icon THX 0477

    Posted 8 months ago

    Neat portrait of a colorful individual through loving eyes. Hmm, now if only I can plot out a good prequel.
    LoA

  2. Death and Road Trips

    Nouvelle Bardot's Buddy Icon Nouvelle Bardot

    Posted 8 months ago

    that was brilliant. i was hinting in mine that it was somewhere along route 66. so glad someone caught on. i love the description of the grandmother and the wonderful little detail of the Elvis flask. ha.
    LoA

  3. Death and Road Trips

    SKermitgorf's Buddy Icon SKermitgorf

    Posted 8 months ago

    5.0 out of 5 stars

    Really good prequel..working bakwards to explain why the person is in the diner and where they’re coming from. Sad/heart warming ruminations on a bleoved/interesting grandma.
    LOA

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