Valentine's Day Sampler

Three Holiday Songs from Billy Bragg

The road stretches on forever. And she sleeps in the front seat.

While you drive.

From time to time, she'll make a noise. And you keep driving.

Your leg cramps and you think of sleep, but you keep going.



There are no other cars on the road.

Okay, one. But that was hours ago.

And it's strange because this is the highway. This is the open road. This is America.

But you drive and drive, occasionally craning your neck to look out at the stars.

There's snow in places. Then there's not. And you try to remember the last exit you saw, the last town you passed.

But you can't.




And after what seems like days, you realize you need to stop.

You need to pee. You need caffeine. You need to rest.

And the long, soulful guitar solo ends.

And the radio fades out on the road. Long and straight.

Darkness with just your headlights to illuminate the way. And just the soft sound of deep breathing inside the car and the occasional thump of the tires passing a seam in the roadway.




When the need to stop outweighs the desire not to disturb her sleep, you turn to her.

But she's not there.

Somewhere on the long, dark road, she left.

And now it doesn't matter if you stop because you're alone.

Somehow. That gives you the jolt you need to keep going.

At least for now.