The Morrisons didn't lose their freedom.
They were merely sentenced to the highways
for life, never stopping anywhere, going no
place, just driving, driving, driving....
Some people had disagreed with him. They were influential people. He was put on the road.
Stan wanted to scream at the big sixteen-cylinder Special to go faster. But Salt Lake City, where they would allow him to stop over for the maximum eight hours, was a long way off. And anyway, he couldn't go over a hundred. The Special had an automatic cut-off.
He stared down the super ten-lane Freeway, down the glassy river, plunging straight across the early desert morning—into nowhere. That was Anna's trouble. His wife couldn't just keep travelling, knowing there was no place to go. No one could do that.
2 novos extremos absolutos: Odemira
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