Lift Off

"Bbbbbbbrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmm" Ethel Mertz hums down the black asphalt, steady as a sun chariot. Outside my car window, there are untold legions of freshly laid crop circles, cow tippings, and opal tornadoes. Since it was darkest night, I could not have made out the Woodsian landscape, even if I had infrared military spy ware - I was driving too fast after being warned a few hours earlier in Oklahoma. I really should have paid more attention to the police officer, I suppose.

Let me welcome you to the Kansas Turnpike, 230 miles of Midwest buffalo range pavement. Against my will, I am drawn in, whirled round, blinded, suffocated, and at the same time filled with giddy rapture about the music pumping through the sound system. The whirr of the tires, and rush of broken air add to my cocoon as I drive. There's no one else on the road and as I settle into an enigmatic trance, I set the cruise control at 118 mph.

Time passes, and then down the road something quickly approaches my vehicle. I have enough time to respond, but I don't. Instead, I grab some cheese-its from the plastic bag in the empty passenger seat and think to myself, "Oh, I'm going to hit that large lump of metal in the middle of the road."

Remaining calm, I then ask myself what would someone on a plane do? They would check their seat belt buckle, then put their heads between their legs and kiss their ass goodbye. Unfortunately, the car was too small, and my mouth was too full of cheese crackers, to risk getting close to my neither regions that had been in the same position for the last six hours.

bbbbbbuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzz. KA-BOOM!!!! Ethel Mertz hits the large silver object in the middle of the four lane expressway. Mysteriously... almost magically, we both reenact a scene from ET. The only difference between Hollywood and my trip were: my moon was wrapped in plastic, covered in chocolate, and filled with marshmallow; my extra terrestrial was the flapping of a towel hanging out my window to dry off as I feistily prodded down the freeway. Everything else was the same.

I look out my window. I didn't see the ground anymore. I lay my ear against the clear glass, and I no longer hear the sounds of my tires interacting with the pavement. The rush of wind and the hum of the engine, however did seem more pronounced. I look out the windshield, and notice I can't see the road lines anymore either, it's pitch black ahead of me. Moon pie, please deliver me from being launched into the stratosphere.

Several seconds pass, and just as I get used to the flying sensation and my intestinal butterflies, the captain indicates our return to earth, and to prepare for landing. CRACK!!!! Ethel Mertz hits the pavement and bounces violently up and down like I just had new hydraulics installed. Sparks come flying out from behind me and on the sides, lighting up the expressway in brilliant flashes of yellows and reds. I hold onto the steering wheel for dear life... Talk about white knuckle driving, right? Eventually, the bouncing stops, and a shaky scraping ensues, but I drive onward to Kansas City.

In the morning, I check the alignment, and nothing is wrong, but I do find the arm of a gremlin, and detach it from the bumper, and set off toward Iowa. Next time, I'm going to ride my broom through Kansas.