Feverish Intervals of Sunlight and Thunder

Unlike most days, I was in a mood of patience and smiles. Why? Perhaps because it was raining.

Usually at the sight of the flashing lights and trailing cars passing over my route home, I would hightail it off the road in a quick U-turn and head my way back, over the longer way home via an overpass and a couple more traffic lights.

Not today, I guess.

Like a wand magically tapped the instinct away with a bop right over my crown, and beyond any other metaphor, I slowly sidled up to the car parked right in front of the lowered bar, and shut off my car.

It got really quiet without the radio and I felt a little eerie with just the thuds of the train cars over the tracks. Rain speckled my windshield in a light patter without the wipers flinging them off, back into the sky. I watched them collapse into running puddles without a clue of what to do with myself.

A sudden thought flit through my mind. Are they cold? Referring to the raindrops, I scavenged my brain for a recollection as I studied the sky. I hadn't bothered to check when I was heading to my car. Are rainbows warm?

I might have smiled, because I'm smiling now. 

Pulling back the cover of my moon roof, I opened the sliding glass of the roof, stunned by the coolness raining and drenching my hair and seats. Perhaps not the most brilliant of ideas.

Settled back into my seat with the moon roof properly covered and shut, I watched the cars tunnel through the rain. The end is not in sight yet, just a trail of bright, rusty metal boxes trudging across my scope of vision. 

The graffiti sings as they flash by, freckling and branding a time and moment that travels across the country. What I wouldn't do to know what they mean. And who was possessed to brave through the feat. Perhaps I should redo my unruly attempt as a redemption.

I remember the first time I had seen the trains ripple through the city. It was stunning and impossible. The times I would count the cars, baffled by the monster that could tug over a hundred cars. How I wondered what it would be like to ride on the Rocky Mountaineer through the country. The sights. The cities. 

Oh, and definitely the accomplishment of earning a choking whistle from the conductor as he passes through. 

I passed the rest of the moment with a clear mind, just following the gradual movement. It became hypnotic until the last car peeked from behind a distant house.

On cue, the car in front of me roared back to life, shaking off the rain, and the queue behind me started a carol.

Carefully, I turned the key.

The End

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