Took a road trip with my father. He was doing all of the driving; I was in the passenger seat. We rode with the windows down. The sky was an inky blue as we turned onto the interstate ramp, the very last remains of the day. My father flipped on the headlights and lit a cigarette without needing to say a word. I was busy flipping through the dial on the radio, looking for the country station that he liked. I had absolutely no idea where we were headed; I was just glad to see him again.