Isolated Incident

It's about four-thirty in the morning. Light snow. I buy a large black coffee and a bottle of water from the Husky, clean the taillights on my trailer and head west out of Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. I'm hauling a load of washing machines or bike racks or whatever. Once up the hill and out of town, it's pitch black. Just my headlights reflecting off of big medallions of falling snow. There aren't very many vehicles on the road at this hour. Just a few other big rigs. As I get further into the tree-lined darkness the snow begins to pick up. The high beams turn my path into blinding static, so I shut them off. The highway is blanketed in snow now, making it difficult to tell where my lane is. There are no tracks to follow so I just try to stay right but avoid the soft shoulder. The snow is beginning to build up on my windshield. I roll my window down to get fresh air and some sense of contact with the world I'm moving through. It's like white clay caking up in front of me. My windshield wipers are helpless. Just two skinny arms, frantically waving me to stop. But there's nowhere to stop, and if there was I wouldn't see it. I hunch over and squint, trying to peer through the gaps in the snow. I know there will be sharp curves and steep hills. I try to feel the energy of the space. I go slow, but not too slow for fear of getting stuck going up a hill. I spot the occasional pair of headlights coming towards me, and we pass each other with care. The cold air and snow blowing on me through the window keep my senses heightened. I take a sip of coffee to feel something hot inside of me. I am fully in every moment and somehow navigating my way through this. A couple hours have passed and my neck and shoulders are rattling with tension. Slowly, the sun begins trickling in to dilute the blackness. The snow relents and I spot a little area off the highway to pull over. I clear off the windshield and knock my wipers clean. One last mouthful of cold coffee and I carry on. The sun is out in full display now. The snow has stopped completely. A break in the trees reveals the white-capped waves of Lake Superior crashing up against the snow covered cliffs. And I think, “Well this is something else!” And I want to tear my clothes off and run through the snow. I want to taste flesh and blood and soil. I want howling blackout sex. But I'm alone, the day has just begun, and I have a job to do.