OldTroubador's blog post - Good Morning Sunshine

The alarm clocks start going off at some obscene hour. Two different ringtones on my phone force my eyes open; I shut them off and sit up, swinging my feet to the floor. As I’m sitting there trying to figure out why I am awake at this hour, one more alarm begins its shrill squawking. I am muttering words that should get my mouth washed out with lye as I try to find the “Shut the hell up already!!!” button. That mission finally accomplished, I stumble to the front of the truck and sit heavily into my seat. I reach down, grab the thermos of yesterday’s coffee and pour a cup. I sit there sipping the cold black brew, looking out the windshield at the darkness, trying to remember where I am and where I am going. These damned truck stops all look the same after a while – especially in the dark. I give up trying and grab my notebook; I soon realize that I need to turn on a light to read it. To hell with it - I toss the notebook back where it belongs and just sit there, drinking coffee, coming to grips with reality. Sort of.
Leftover coffee gone, I get dressed and walk across the parking lot. I fill my two thermos’s, grab a breakfast burrito, and go to the counter to pay. The lady working the register laughs as I hand over my insurance card by mistake. I finally find my credit card and hand that over. After exchanging a few words with the by now hysterical lady, I walk back out the door. I find the Freebird, she didn’t wander too far away, put up my coffee and begin the pre-trip inspection. All looks good, so I climb into my seat again, fire up the power, and get things ready to roll.
Second gear, slipping the clutch, easing out of the parking space I’m in. Driving around carefully, around the trucks parked willy-nilly along the curb, looking for the exit. I look both ways into the darkness, no traffic on the road. My foot slips off the clutch, the Freebird leaps sideways, it seems. I curse myself as I run up the gearbox onto the two lane. I cross the highway, gear down, and drop onto the ramp. More trucks line the shoulder so I ease past them, not giving into the temptation to lay on the air horn as I pass. I’m grabbing gears and laying down the power, getting the old gal up to speed. I side-slip onto the highway and set the cruise control.
We have to travel a few hours of darkened highway before the sun comes up. My windows are down, the music is loud, and the burrito lands in my belly like a hot brick. I pop a peppermint into my mouth, hoping that will quell the fire down below. It doesn’t help as I belch painfully. I reach for my coffee mug and take a swig, the hot brew scalding my gullet. Yeah, it’s that kind of morning. The road is fairly straight and rolls gently through the southern hills. Over the sound of Blackfoot, I can hear the cicadas calling each other in the grass. Occasionally, headlights pass me, but for the most part, I have the road to myself. Just me, the Freebird, and the endlessly scrolling dotted lines to my left. A small town slides by, the lights harsh from the all night gas stations and stores. Exit and entrance ramps appear and disappear quickly. With little to no traffic, the biggest problem is staying awake. Another drink of coffee is needed. This one doesn’t burn on the way down. The dashboard lights and the electronic logbook lights are turned down. The CD comes to the end, so I turn off the stereo and just listen to the night. The air is soft and cool as the tires and engine serenade me.
After a couple hundred miles, things begin to look different. The trees are no longer shapeless shadows in the darkness but start to take on form. The color changes slowly from black to green. The roadway lengthens from the small circle of light, stretching out further in front as the sky lightens. Soon, all the shades of green can be seen in the trees; the shadows below them are still black. Birds begin to sing and fly around. As I cross one bridge over a stream, I look to the water; a light mist hangs there. Crossing under a road, barn swallows by the score explode out, looking for mosquitoes to eat. Lights start coming on in farmhouses that were previously unseen. Passing another town, cars are moving around, people heading out to go to work; they are buying coffee, newspapers, going through their own morning routine.
I pour a fresh cup as the sky in front of me becomes brighter. I can see exactly where the sun is going to rise. Clouds in the east catch the rays of the sun, glowing gold. The light spreads quickly across the land and the last vestiges of sleepiness in me depart. The sky itself is a pale blue; in my mirrors it is still dark. The blue is highlighted with pinks and yellows as the thin clouds capture the light. The palette is ever changing, minute by minute. I smile, realizing that moments like these make the last few hours worth all the trouble. A small line of clouds hide the actual rising of the sun. Mare’s tails of wispy ice crystals are dry brushed higher in the sky, catching and holding the colors of the dawn. I say a word of thanks for being allowed to see such a morning.