Takin’ The Slow Ride

A cotton sky, an old Ford, a glass sticky with soda, and a road that's in no hurry to get anywhere. Everything here is painted slowly: the smell of honeysuckle from the ditch, the “Rock City” sign on the crooked barn, the peaches at the roadside gas station. Time stretches out like chewing gum under a heel, and even the radio plays the right chords - the ones that are best for driving thirty miles an hour and going nowhere in a hurry. The world is rushing by, but here it seems to have taken a vacation.