Michigan Gothic

I only have myself to blame. I was on my way back to the shop when the call came in. I could have said no, but I’m always trying to score points, so I turned my van around, drove out in the middle of nowhere and spent the next twenty-five minutes trying to find the goddamned place. Naturally, the job went to shit and took much longer than anticipated. I didn’t finish until damn near 9:00pm, and by then the weather had gone to shit as well. We were only supposed to get rain, but there was an unexpected shift in the winds, and the Canadians were kind enough to send what’s called an Arctic burst our way, effectively turning the roads into ice rinks. I just wish I had stopped for gas before driving all the way out to BFE. No cell phone signal, of course. I tried to hunker down and wait it out, but in the cold silence the patter of freezing rain began to whisper to me, thousands of tiny voices muttering unintelligibly at first, but then gradually becoming clearer. I didn’t care much for what they were saying. Grabbing a flashlight and a gas can, I high-tailed it. The nearest gas station is about 15 miles away. I thought I could outrun those icy voices but in retrospect, I probably should have stayed in the van. I just wanted to go home.

     
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