From: "Kate Lesky" Date: Sat, 12 Feb 2000 11:28:47 MST Subject: Driving by Kate Lesky Source: direct TITLE: Driving AUTHOR: Kate Lesky EMAIL: Please! at: redheaded_skeptic@eudoramail.com or capnkate88@hotmail.com RATING: G CATEGORY: V SPOILERS: none KEYWORDS: none SUMMARY: Scully's thoughts on a road trip. AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is based on my own ride home from Durango, Colorado to Phoenix (can you tell? :P). I do not presume to know Scully's mind, or how to drive, but the experience was similar: it rained, I couldn't sleep, and we traveled the same route. However, we got home by eight, and we drove through Gallup uneventfully, so I am still dry. But this is what might have happened to Mulder and Scully, and the only thing I finished on this vacation! {7-3-99} DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully aren't mine, but this story is. It's late at night, somewhere in eastern Arizona. It's raining, so Mulder is driving slowly, and there is thunder and lightning as well. I can barely see out of my window. We went to Gallup to follow a lead, which fell flat. We got a flat on some dirt road and had to be towed into town. That was yesterday: last night I slept on a chair in the waiting room of a dirty garage. We weren't able to leave until 5 the next day, and with $687.89 less on the official AmEx. I spent the day in muddy clothes, going over files I had already gone over. Now we are still about 5 hours from a nice, warm, dry hotel in Phoenix. Maybe longer, depending on this rain. I am still muddy, but I have long since taken off my jacket, and my blouse is damp from when I had to pump the gas back in Holbrook. All I really want right now is a long, hot shower. I decide to try to go to sleep, since we have a ways to go. I tilt my seat back and use my jacket as a pillow. I am about to ask Mulder if he brought a blanket, but he is hunched over the wheel, peering out intently through the driving rain and trying to decide whether to pass the truck in front of us on the two-lane highway. I decide not to bother him. I try to sleep, but suddenly the rain is too loud, the windshield wipers squeak badly, and Mulder starts humming some bad rock-n-roll song. So I sit and watch the blurry red-and-white lights go by. A jagged bolt of lightning cracks the sky, and the ensuing thunder is deafening; we are near the center of the storm. I must have drifted off to sleep, because Mulder is nudging me. He wants me to look at the map and figure out which way to go at Snowflake. I tell him to keep going south to Show Low. Tilting the seat back up, I notice the rain has stopped. I offer to drive if he's tired. I don't think he's slept in about 40 hours, and I know the Salt River Canyon is coming up in about an hour. That is not something you want a tired driver navigating in the dark. I remember driving it in college, on spring break while going to San Diego. We had intended the scenic route, but I had ended up navigating its twists, turns, and cliffs because I was the only sober one. And now Mulder doesn't look much better than my friends did. He accepts my offer, and we pull over at a gas station at the edge of town. He gets out, letting me slide across the front seat. I am careful not to poke myself on the stick shift. It takes us awhile to adjust our seats, but then we get back on the highway. It is hard driving. The roads are still slick, and there are no lights besides the other cars. After Show Low, the road starts down the Mogollon Rim, curves and low visibility make driving awful. Luckily the road is almost empty; glancing at the clock, it is 12:05. I still have 150 miles before Phoenix and the hotel. Now that he is no longer driving, Mulder is wide awake. He gets out the casefiles and tries to read, but it's too dark. Now he gets out a tape instead. So now we listen to the Grateful Dead for about an hour, until the road lowers into the canyon. I jab at the stereo to turn off the tape -- the hairpin curves require all of my concentration. Mulder does not argue, but looks out the window. I'm sure this gorge is beautiful during the day, but there is little to see in the pitch blackness. At the bottom is a tiny gas station and store with cheap Indian stuff. Going up is even worse, with tighter curves and steeper hills. Even on this dark, awful road, I love the thrill of driving in open country like this. Especially since I usually sit in the passenger seat. The rest of the trip is uneventful. I stop for coffee at Globe, and a refill at Florence Junction. It turns out that the latter consists only of a Texaco. After about Superior, I notice a glow in the sky ahead. Mulder says it is Phoenix, and I am surprised, considering Arizona is so well known for its observatories. He falls asleep soon after, and I am alone. We will arrive at the hotel around three and go straight to bed. Tomorrow morning we'll finish up the report and hand it in to the local office. Our flight leaves at noon, during which we will alternately catch up on sleep or argue about what we saw, like always. It has been, after all, an ordinary case. But for now, I'm driving. Authors live for email!