Fueling

The Jeep comes to a rest beside the gas pumps. Wherever we are here, the distances between outposts are great. We are in a repeating pattern of burning fuel and needing more. I open the driver’s side door.

The wind has nothing to blow except dust in this place. I step out and present it another object. There is a pressure to the cold air against my body and the smooth rubber handle stings my hand as I grasp it, insert it into the vehicle, and pull the trigger.

The machine rumbles to life and fuel begins coursing from a reservoir beneath me, upwards through a hose and into the automobile. I take this time to place a hand on each tire inspecting for heat. Kneeling towards the ground I glance beneath the undercarriage and squint to avoid my eyes filling with tiny desert particles. A faint smell of burning oil is present as I move towards the hood.

Somewhere, West Texas - January 2nd, 2023