March Slice Challenge #19

Driving to Tennessee along Interstate 81 relaxes me. Unless the tractor trailers are hogging the road, I am able to drive the speed limit and let my mind wander a little. Over spring break, as I was driving, I looked over to the right lane (I was in the left) and saw a powder-blue classic car — probably from the 1950s. It was nice to look at because it had been restored to its original glory. As I was intently checking out the car, my eyes scanned the driver. He had black hair and huge sunglasses and his left arm was crooked and lackadaisically hanging out the window. Wait. What? Elvis?

It was Elvis! Elvis was driving the car. “Mom! Look!” My mom had been dosing in the passenger seat. “It’s Elvis!” I said incredulously.

“Huh? What?” she said looking out the window. Then she saw him, too, and we both laughed hysterically.

Elvis was driving much slower than I was so I blew past him. I tried to slow down to see him again after I got up the road because I wanted to look closer. But it was no use. He was gone. He probably took the last exit for supper before heading to Graceland.