Stealing away for a while

I think the sun's a pretty hot place. Judging by today's heat anyway.

I pack away lunch at my frequented chinese place, but not all of it. It is nice and cool in the restaurant and having to step outside is like having to go back to work on the day after the last day of your vacation. I walk to my car, open the door, sit down, close the door and I feel like the inside of a freshly baked chicken pot pie. I wind down the windows because the heat is suffocating. With a flick of the wrist I wake up the engine and together we drive towards the mountains. We have to stop 20 miles from its foot, but the very act of driving towards the mountains is a much welcomed and refreshing illusion to take our minds off today's scorcher. I lean my forearm parallel to the car and beyond its frame. And I do the wave. The wind catches my palm like a sail, and I ride its sinusoidal swell. I feel free like a bird, light as a feather, sun on my face, wind in my hair. But all this will soon end. 20 miles from the foot of the hill. They only allow me an hour for lunch. An hour would be enough to make it there and back and even do lunch... on a straight road. But the curls on the ground intensify as you get closer. And that slows you down. But you know what? Fuck it. It's a lovely Thursday afternoon, too good to waste. I'm going all the way and leaving the world in my dusty wake.