Traffic Jammin’

I was up and out the door at dawn as morning thawed to gray. Sean yawned at me from behind the wheel of his mother’s tan Toyota. Xander was sitting shotgun, snoozing, with his face buried in a pillow against the passenger door. His blond bedhead was out of control.

I stuffed my duffel bag into the trunk and crawled into the backseat beside a big blue plastic cooler that was packed with the provisions we’d procured the night before: wheat bread, peanut butter, strawberry jam, apples, oranges, peaches and a case of bottled water. This would be our sole sustenance for the three days that lay ahead.

We pulled out of my driveway and onto the highway – southbound, baby. Our destination (destiny) lay half a thousand miles south in rural Tennessee. A man had a farm there where music would be.

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