Driving is like reading a novel that meanders along, with each chapter written in the dust of the roadways.
where the sun gently and silently brushes the horizon and the wide road hums with freedom.
The sound of tires hitting pavement determines the ride's cadence.
The mountains rise, watching, like old sentinels, as the surrounding area fades into a haze of yellow and green.
Small towns have neon signs that shine like stars at night, and eateries serving up tales as vibrant as pies. They resemble abandoned fantasies.
You follow the edge, unsure of its future course.
However, there is the allure—the enigma encased in miles.
The main focus of a road trip is the journey, not the destination.
Add comment
Comments