The Scenic Route

A weathered sign warned, "Caution: Area Subject to Flash Floods." Rose smiled. There wasn't much danger of that on a day like this. The sky was as clear as the sun was bright. It was so hot that she felt as if she were in an immense oven, slowly baking. Her Mustang's air-conditioning couldn't compete with the heat of the midday desert. Rose didn't mind, though. She liked the heat, and, inside her car, she didn't have to fear skin damage from the penetrating rays of the sun.

The road rose steeply through the rugged terrain, and, over the rise, she saw the road that led west, dead-ending in Dixie Valley. Not long after this junction, the pavement gave out, and Rose slowed as her car encountered rough, washboard ripples that made the vehicle's entire frame shudder beneath her. Ahead, the road wound to the right, with high rises on either side. Rose couldn't see much beyond fifty yards at a stretch, and she slowed further. She passed no other cars or trucks. The road, except for her, was completely empty. On her right, the shoulder leveled off into a wide expanse, and she turned into this natural parking space, turned off the Mustang's engine, opened the door, and climbed out of the vehicle, arching her back. Whether a couple of vertebrae actually popped or she'd only imagined hearing them do so, her spine seemed to shift and settle, relieving stress that she hadn't realized had been upon her lower back muscles. She stretched. It felt good to be out of her car after having driven several hundreds of miles.

Although it hadn't been easy to get to this place, the trip had been worth the effort, she decided. It was more isolated than she'd imagined it might be. She hadn't seen a soul in nearly an hour, and she was unlike to see anyone in at least as long. Few, if any, travelers would have followed this road as far north as she had done, especially after its pavement had given way to the hardscrabble surface she'd traveled north of Dixie Valley. She felt safe in doing what she'd come to do, and, standing beside her Mustang, she unhurriedly undressed, kicking off her suede boots; removing her socks; shrugging out of her simple cotton top; sliding her unsnapped, unzipped mini-skirt down her sleek thighs and stepping out of the heap it formed about her bare feet.