A Road with No End

Sometimes we don’t know where the road of life will take us. We expect a smooth drive and that we can take the long, scenic route, but rarely is the journey as lovely as we’d like with potholes and curves making life a bumpy ride. Sometimes those bumps throw the car off the road causing it to careen into a ditch. Sometimes during the trip, the sun disappears and we get caught in the rain.

Amelia stood in the rain beside her brother’s grave with tears indiscernible from the raindrops running down her cheeks. The pastor’s voice rising above the roar of sheets of rain and wind. He sung a hymn that awoke a black song bird nesting above her head in a tree while taking shelter from the storm. The bird’s chirps rose louder than the pastor’s projected voice drowning out the human song with its own supernatural tune. The bird’s song rose higher than the trees like it was trying to get the sound to break through the atmosphere and reach heaven.

The family looked to the sky to find the bird who was determined to make his presence known. “Birds don’t sing during storms,” Amelia’s dad whispered.

We all travel this endless, lonely highway where we have to go and leave people behind. Just like Greyson did when he left his family to travel with friends a short few months ago. He was traveling a lonely country highway at twilight. The stars peaked above the orange horizon. He was meeting up with some high school friends; it had been too long since they had all seen each other, but that’s what happens when everyone gets off at different exits. Some of his friends were newly married and some had babies on the way and some were ahead of the curve with full families of their own.

The trip had been clear and carefree the whole way until the rain began to fall in silver streaks across the windshield as Greyson drove alone through the oncoming twilight. The falling sun glared like a headlight into Greyson’s eyes. He was no more than ten miles away from his destination.

The highway was empty without another car nor headlights, just the endless strip of wet asphalt stretching into the increasing darkness. The rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers was the only sound in the car. Even his breath was too quiet.

The emptiness was becoming crushing as the soundless highway was becoming an empty void. It left Greyson too long with his own despairing thoughts about life. His life was bright and the future was vast with family and friends but when he was alone with his girlfriend, life didn’t seem as happy. They had been together for seven years without coming to the next mile markers: marriage and kids. Why? Because he had doubts that he could make her happy, and worse, he was afraid he wasn’t happy. He thought about ending it but didn’t know how. How do you travel so long on a road, turn back, and have it not feel like a waste of time? He was in the twilight of his youth and couldn’t get those bright, energetic, younger years back.

Greyson popped a CD into the dashboard. Every seat in the car now sat friends from his teen years, like Brian Fallon and Corey Taylor—jamming to music that was full of life.

He had gotten four songs deep when the pause before the next song made him look up at the darkened woods. The turn off for the campground should be coming up… or did he pass it already by accident?

The only lights coming through the trees were from his headlights and the shadows cast from the tree trunks hid any gaps in the trees. He leaned over the steering wheel, squinting, trying to get a glimpse of an opening to any sort of path. Still, Greyson couldn’t see anything.

He pulled the car over onto the side of the road. The gravel crackled under his tires and mimicked the last remaining fat raindrops falling from the sky as a drizzle. The GPS glowed like an old Gameboy. Greyson picked it up to take a closer looked. Yes! He had missed the turn. The GPS was twitching as it recommended Greyson to turn around when possible.

Greyson looked around at the still and empty country road. “I haven’t seen anyone for miles. The road’s empty enough I can turn around here.”

The last thing he remembered was turning the steering wheel, a flash of bright headlights and the violent sound of metal crushing metal… then darkness.

It took a minute for Greyson’s eyes to adjust. His eyesight cut through the darkness and the headlights of his car lit up the road. He was still driving down that lonely country highway. The clock on the dashboard hadn’t changed and neither had his odometer. Yet, he was going in the opposite direction of what he was before. Maybe he had barely missed the oncoming car and it was only the squeal of breaking tires that he heard.

Greyson continued to scan the tree line for the path to the campsite, but as he scanned he saw a sliver of color on the horizon, glowing through the trees. He looked at the clock confused. It was too late in the evening for the sky to have any light. Was his clock broken?

He continued driving until eventually, headlights appeared behind him growing brighter until a car pulled up beside Greyson’s. The driver rolled down his window and shouted, “I’ll meet you there!”. Then the other car sped ahead and disappeared into the darkness.

Greyson’s chest tightened. “That car looked familiar,” he muttered.

The road kept going. Mile after mile. After a long time, maybe minutes or maybe hours, Greyson saw someone standing on the side of the road.

A boy.

The child had dusty blond hair and was pushing a bike along the side of the road. The spokes of the bike were twisted. The boy lifted his thumb for a ride. Greyson slowed without thinking. When the boy climbed into the passenger seat, Greyson’s breath caught in his throat.

He looked like a childhood friend who had been hit by a car while riding his bike.

“Jamie?” he called, slowing the car to a crawl.

The figure’s eyes lit up. “You’re here!”

“Are you alright? Do you need a ride?”

“Sure”. The kid loaded the bike into the back of Greyson’s car and hopped into the back seat. Greyson turned around to make sure the boy was okay, but when he turned around he saw a someone who was closer to thirty than a kid. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on him.

“You look like an old friend of mine,” Greyson said. They laughed nervously, words tumbling out at once, trying to fill the silence of the highway. “You’re… just like him.” Greyson said, still glancing at the empty road ahead.

Jamie smiled a crooked boyish smile that held hints of mischievous summer days.

The car hit a small puddle, water spraying across the windshield. Jamie squealed, gripping the seat.

“Remember that time we raced our bikes down Miller Street and crashed into Mrs. Donahue’s garden?”

Greyson laughed, “You were the one who started it!”

The memories filled the car, warming it against the night outside. Even the endless highway felt a little less lonely with Jamie beside him.

As they drove on, Greyson realized the road wasn’t just stretching into darkness—it was carrying them back to a past they’d never really left.

“Hey, stop the car! That’s my friend.” Greyson saw another boy cycling along the side of the road. The wheels of his bike jostled along the gravel.

He slowed down to let the boy in, but the boy kept biking. Greyson took a better look at the boy as he slowed to the speed of the bike. What he saw made him tighten his grip on the steering wheel.

It was him. Or rather… a younger version of him.

Greyson rolled down the window. “Hey, do you need a ride? It’s pretty dark out. This isn’t a safe road to be on.”

The boy looked at Greyson confused. “This road is always safe, but sure.”

After the boy loaded his bike into the car, he got into the backseat and looked around the car curiously. “Nice car,” the boy said. “Are we going somewhere?”

Greyson swallowed. “I… don’t know. I was heading to a camping trip.”

The boy smiled, staring out the window at the endless road. They drove in silence for a while.

Soon another figure appeared by the roadside. A teenage boy this time, tall, thin, with long hair and a skateboard in hand.

Greyson pulled over again. The teenager got in the back seat, barely acknowledging him. “Man,” the teen muttered, looking at his phone. “This road never ends. Are we home yet?”

Greyson felt a strange heaviness in his chest. He knew that face too. He looked like himself as a teen.

The road stretched on. Time passed.

The next passenger was a young man in his early twenties wearing a plaid jacket with a skater tee underneath. He laughed when he got in. “I remember this car,” he said. “You finally bought it.”

Greyson’s heart pounded now. Each passenger was him at a different time in life. They talked quietly in the car about memories, dreams, and regrets. The little boy talked to Jamie about wanting to be an extreme sports athlete. The teenager complained about school and how nobody understood him. The college student talked about love, ambition, plans for the future, and the next boy’s trip.

Greyson kept driving. The road never ended. Nothing seemed to change, not even the scenery.

He drove for a while longer, the tires humming against the pavement. No other cars appeared. No towns. No exits. Just the endless highway.

The trees were thinning and white mist was creeping in as the white light of morning grew.

Then he saw another hitchhiker standing on the side of the road. A man in a dark coat, thumb raised. He had grey hair and wrinkles around the eyes. Greyson slowed the car. The stranger climbed into the passenger seat without saying a word. Rainwater dripped from his coat onto the floor. He must have been walking along the side of the road for a while.

He didn’t say anything at first, but something seemed familiar about this person too. Greyson didn’t recognize him at first despite the guy looking like someone he knew. He wondered if this is how he’d look when he was older?

“Thanks for the ride,” the man said calmly with a slight European accent.

Greyson nodded. “Where are you headed?”

The man looked out the windshield at the road. “Same place as you.”

Greyson’s smile lessened but he kept driving. Minutes passed in silence. He looked over to the passenger seat. The man looked uncannily like his grandfather.

“You look familiar,” Greyson noted.

“That’s kind. I wouldn’t think you’d remember me.”

“So, I do know you.” Greyson smiled. He could feel a warmth filling up the car that had been chilled by the earlier rain.

“Yes, we know each other. It’s nice to finally talk to you again. Any time I heard about you or anyone talked about the family, it was always positive. You’re the first person to help when someone needed it. You always have a smile. Traits that would be nice to pass onto kids.”

Greyson laughed nervously. That wasn’t something that was in his current future.

The highway stretched on. More figures began appearing along the roadside. A woman standing with her arms wrapped around herself. A teenager sitting on the guardrail. An old man leaning on a cane. Each one was someone connected to his life: an old friend, an enemy, a stranger.

Each time Greyson slowed down. Some didn’t get in for the ride. Others joined quietly. Soon the car was full. No one spoke much. They just stared out the windows as the road continued endlessly.

Greyson’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “This doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Where are we going?”

Finally, the man in the dark coat turned to him. “You already know.”

Greyson shook his head. But then something caught his eye ahead. Lights flashing red and blue. Police cars. An ambulance. Greyson slowed as the scene came into view.

A wrecked car sat crushed against the guardrail, its metal twisted and broken. Rain washed over shattered glass scattered across the pavement.

Greyson felt his stomach drop. It was his car. Paramedics stood nearby, their faces grim. A body lay under a white sheet beside the wreck. His hands trembled on the wheel. “That’s… that’s not possible.”

The man beside him spoke gently. “You never left the highway.”

Greyson whispered, “I died.”

The passengers in the car fell silent. Greyson looked ahead. Beyond the emergency lights, the highway stretched forever through darkness. There was nothing else ahead other than more asphalt.

Greyson’s voice shook, “Where does it end?”

“It doesn’t. The road continues.” The old man pointed ahead. Far in the distance, Greyson finally saw something different. A faint glow. Like dawn.

Scenes began appearing beyond the windows like reflections in glass. Deep in the woods, he saw an image of his childhood home. He passed his first job, a glimpse of a ski lodge. He saw arguments and mistakes. The road had been made from every mile he’d walked in life.

Greyson stared at the scene as they drove past it. The passengers in the car slowly began to fade, one by one, like fog dissolving into the air.

The police lights disappeared behind them. Soon it was just Greyson again. Just him and the road. He looked down at the dashboard.

The clock still read 12:00.

The highway stretched endlessly into the brightening white light, away from the darkness behind him and no matter how far he drove, it never seemed to end.

Just as the dread started to sink in of a never-ending journey on this road, Greyson saw a small road coming up on the right. He turned off onto the small dirt lane. He didn’t know where it would lead but hopefully he could find something more than this empty road. As he pulled up the lane, he saw a house at the end with a wide yard. He rolled up to the house, a small dog barking and running towards his car. As the dog alerted the household, numerous people came around to the front yard, waving. And in the driveway he saw the car that had sped passed him earlier. His cousin had just gotten out of the car and was waving to him to come park alongside him. He knew everyone here.

Greyson put the car in park and stepped out into the sunlight. A black song bird chirped loudly from the tree branch above him. Greyson smiled his usual kind grin.

A familiar voice yelled from across the yard. “Send him along! He’ll deliver the message.”

Sometimes we don’t know where the road of life will take us. We hope for a smooth ride with laughter and music. We want everyone to pile in and come along for the ride with windows down and sunroof open. Sometimes that doesn’t happen. The car doesn’t fit everyone and the road deteriorates over time. And for most road trips, we run into a little bit of bad weather.

Amelia stood in the rain beside her brother’s grave. A few strands of grey hair shimmered down her face like streams of raindrops rolling down a window pane. The sound of the black song bird echoed through the years and reached Amelia’s memory. Grief was an endless road that she traveled.

She moved her umbrella to look up at the old tree. There were no birds singing today.

Grey clouds swirled across each other in multiple layers in the sky. Amelia looked back down at the ground to avoid getting rain in her eyes when she spotted a small black feather at her feet.