Every road has a memory. Not the memory of the people who built it or the governments that mapped it, but something older and less accountable-the accumulated weight of every vehicle that has traveled it, every decision made at its intersections, every person who drove into its darkness and did not come back the same way they went in. Americans understand roads the way they understand few other things: as freedom, as escape, as the physical expression of the belief that moving forward is the same as moving away from whatever is behind you. What the twenty-five accounts in this book suggest, collectively and without apology, is that the road does not always share that belief. Sometimes it holds on. Sometimes it replays.
AmazonPages: 118, Paperback, Independently published
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