Keep Driving by Rayber_Polanco

The sun crept through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the familiar walls of my childhood bedroom. The year was 2002, and the air felt heavy with the scent of freedom. Today, I would finally start my own story.

From the living room came the faint echoes of my parents' voices. "So, you're really going to start your life, huh?" said my father. "Don't forget to come back sometimes," added my mother. Their faces were shrouded in shadow, almost unreal, but I knew those voices anywhere.

I smiled, a little bittersweet, and whispered a quick goodbye. Just as my mother started calling my name, I turned, grabbed the keys, and slid into the driver's seat. The Volvo 240 purred to life beneath me.

My first stop: Motorville, down Route 44, to grab my festival tickets. The date flashed on the ticket screen: June 19, 2001. The festival? Not until August 25. Plenty of time to lose myself on the road.

I slid my favorite record, Diswasher by Westkust, into the player. The winds rushed past the open windows, carrying with them a sense of infinite possibility. "This is going to be incredible," I whispered to myself, feeling the pulse of the road beneath the tires.

The road stretched ahead, golden under the morning sun, toward Borronia, a tiny town that barely made it onto the map but promised coffee, snacks, and maybe a little adventure.

I rolled into the center of town, parking the Volvo in front of a café that doubled as a bank (because, of course, Borronia did everything in one building). The smell of baked goods hit me first, then the faint clink of champagne glasses.

And then I saw her.

She was behind the counter, pouring champagne into tiny flutes like a maestro conducting a symphony. The sunlight caught her hair, the glass sparkled in her hands, and I nearly drove past the building in awe.

"wow," I muttered under my breath. "chica tan linda…"

She looked up, eyebrow raised, a small smirk forming. "Excuse me?"

"I… uh… I mean—" I stumbled over my words. "Could I get… some, uh… champagne?"

She laughed, a sound that was both melodic and mocking. "Sure. On the house, if you can tell me your favorite number."

I blinked. "My… favorite number?"

She leaned closer, her eyes dancing. "Yeah. But hurry, it's Borronia rules. No number, no champagne."

I stared at her, then at the tiny flutes in her hand. "Fine… seven."

She raised an eyebrow, tilted her head, and slid a glass across the counter. "Lucky guess."

I tok a sip and nearly choked from how good it tasted. "Wow. That's… incredible.

She grinned. "Name's Lily," she said, writing it on a small card and sliding it toward me. I picked it up, looking at it. "Oh, that's your name… I mean—wait… you literally wrote it there?"

She laughed again, eyes sparkling. "Yes, genius. Didn't you notice?"

I held up the card like a detective who just solved the greatest case of the century. "I… I totally missed that. Classic me."

She leaned on the counter. "Classic you indeed. So, are you going to sip that champagne quietly or talk to me while you pretend you know what you're doing?"

I raised my glass. "Let's talk. But be warned… I'm terrible at small talk."

"Oh, this'll be fun," she said, smirking. "Terrible small talkers are my favorite."

We laughed, and just like that, Borronia felt like the first pit stop of something unforgettable—

I was just about to introduce myself properly to Lily when—BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The Volvo's alarm blared like it had a personal vendetta against me.

"Ah! The idiot!" I shouted, sprinting out of the café.

From around the corner, a disheveled guy—clearly in his own world—was wobbling toward my car. He had the kind of face that screamed trouble with a hint of charm, hair sticking out in all directions, mismatched shoes, and a backpack that looked like it had survived a minor apocalypse.

"Hey! Watch it!" I yelled as he collided gently with my bumper.

"Whoa, sorry, bro!" he said, rubbing his forehead. "I… uh… got a little lost there."

I raised an eyebrow. "A little lost? You just set off my alarm and nearly ran into my car."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah… classic me. Anyway, do you think you could… maybe… give me a ride to Motorville?"

I blinked. "Motorville? What are you even doing there?"

He shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. "No idea… totally forgot, man. Just… heading there, I guess."

I stared at him. Incredible. An idiot pushing my car to Motorville and can't even explain why.

He looked up at me, hopeful. "Sorry, brother… really, I just wanna get to Motorville."

"Yeah, yeah, you already said that," I sighed. "What are you waiting for? Get in."

He hopped in with a grin that made the whole situation even more absurd. I waved to Lily, feeling a little pang in my chest, but before I could drive off, she called out:

"Wait! There's a girl—my sister! She needs to get to Midnight Sun, in Tombstone, east on Route 79."

I frowned, tracing the route on my map. That's pretty far from my festival plans…

She smiled at me and leaned in, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. "Do it for me, okay? When you pass by, I'll have a surprise waiting for you."

I stood there, stunned. A girl I'd just met had kissed me on the cheek!

"Alright… I'll find her," I said finally.

"Thanks," she said with that radiant smile that made saying goodbye almost unbearable.

Back in the car, the idiot was humming some random tune, completely unfazed. I glanced at the clock—3:30 PM. The road stretched ahead, the Volvo humming beneath us, and my next stop: Tombstone.

The adventure had officially begun.

The road was open, the sun beginning to lean toward afternoon, and my "idiot" co-pilot seemed determined to fill every silent moment with… well, nonsense.

"So," he started, leaning back, "you ever think about how weird sandwiches are? Like, why do we even call them sandwiches? Some people call it a sub, some a hoagie… I once met a guy who said 'hero.' Can you believe that? Hero! Who made that decision?"

I stared straight ahead, gripping the wheel. "Uh… sure. Totally… heroic."

He nodded solemnly. "Exactly. It's a mystery. And don't get me started on socks. Where do they disappear? I lose three socks every laundry cycle. It's a global conspiracy, I'm telling you."

I sighed but decided to just roll with it. "Yeah… socks, totally. Global problem."

Then he paused, looking out the window, and said, "Anyway, my name's actually Marvin. Yeah… Marvin the idiot. But not really an idiot, I guess… just… socially challenged."

I raised an eyebrow. "Socially challenged. Uh-huh. How did that happen?"

Marvin shrugged, looking like he was preparing for a long monologue. "Well, I was born in a small town—okay, not as tiny as Borronia, but still… small. My parents ran a llama farm. Yeah, llamas. Weird, right? They thought llamas could teach me responsibility… which, honestly, they didn't. But I got really good at feeding them, so that's… something."

I chuckled despite myself. "I guess that counts."

"And school," he continued, "don't even get me started. I was… how do I say this politely… the class clown. Or maybe the class 'confuser.' Teachers never knew if I was joking or serious. One time I convinced the principal that I was an undercover alien studying human behavior. He believed me for, like, two weeks."

I blinked. "Two weeks? That's… impressive."

He nodded proudly. "Exactly. So now I just roam around, meeting people, pushing random cars to Motorville, making philosophical observations about socks and sandwiches… you know, the important stuff."

I couldn't help but laugh. Of course I ended up with this guy as my first co-pilot. "Alright, Marvin. Let's see where your sock theories get us."

He grinned. "Oh, we're going places, brother. Literally and philosophically."

And with that, the Volvo hummed along Route 44, the road stretching endlessly before us, filled with the promise of absurd conversations, accidental adventures, and a journey neither of us would forget.

By the time we hit Bournes, the town already felt bigger than Borronia, with bustling streets, small cafés, and people moving about with purpose. I parked the Volvo right in the center, letting Marvin—still grinning like he owned the world—wander off.

"Alright, Marvin," I said, "go ahead and… you know… cheer up some lives or whatever it is you do."

He waved enthusiastically. "On it, captain! Spreading joy, one confused citizen at a time!"

I glanced at my watch. 7:00 PM. Perfect. Time to explore the city on my own.

As I wandered, I noticed a street vendor selling colorful candies. His table was tiny but inviting. "Some sweets, sir?" he called out.

I picked out a few. "Thanks, these look great!"

Just as I was about to pay, a little dog darted from an alley and snatched the candies right out of my hands.

"Hey! Come back here!" I shouted, chasing after it through narrow streets until we reached a small alley. There, crouched over a tiny bundle of puppies, was their mother, guarding her babies.

Ah… so that's why. The dog wasn't stealing—they were hungry.

I dug into my backpack, pulling out more food, and gently gave it to the mother. She wagged her tail, her eyes bright, and the puppies eagerly ate. I smiled, though a little anxious. Well, now I'm going to have to buy more food…

Checking my watch again, it was 9:00 PM. Time to stock up. I made my way to the nearest supermarket, grabbed some essentials, and while scanning the music section, remembered my playlist was running low. My fingers paused on a CD—Dorena, a band I'd been meaning to explore. Perfect.

With a bag full of snacks and my new music, I headed back to the Volvo, where Marvin was probably halfway through cheering up a street musician or arguing with a confused pigeon.

I jolted awake at 2 AM to the sound of BANG! BANG! against the side of the Volvo. Heart racing, I scrambled out of the driver's seat, blinking into the darkness.

"Hey! You! Wake up!" a frantic voice hissed from the shadows.

I squinted. "Who… who's there?"

"It's your… your friend!" the kid panted. "The guy you came with… he's in trouble!"

I groaned. "Which friend? Marvin?"

"No! I… I don't know his name! I only know… he's an idiot!"

Perfect, I muttered. Of course he'd get into trouble at 2 AM.

I grabbed my flashlight and followed the kid down narrow streets. Ahead, neon lights flickered in the distance, revealing the entrance to a grimy club. Loud engines roared outside. My stomach dropped. Motorcycles. Bikers. And, without a doubt, trouble.

Peering through the shadows, I saw him—Marvin—surrounded by a gang of burly bikers, all revving their motorcycles like a pack of angry wolves. Marvin had his hands raised, smiling nervously.

"Okay, okay, guys! Don't shoot… I just wanted a ride to Motorville!"

One of the bikers barked a laugh. "Motorville, huh? You brought your friend here? Pathetic!"

I ducked behind a trash bin, whispering to myself, "Alright… plan… plan… stay cool… maybe talk your way out…"

Marvin spotted me hiding. "Hey! You're awake! Good, good! I was gonna handle this diplomatically, but… uh… maybe not?"

I facepalmed. "Marvin! You idiot! Why do you always do this?"

Marvin shrugged. "Adventure, brother. You of all people should understand. Anyway… maybe flash some lights? Confuse them?"

I sighed. "Fine." I turned the flashlight on, swinging it wildly across their faces. The bikers squinted, momentarily blinded. Marvin took this as a cue.

"Brother! Let's go!" he shouted, grabbing my arm.

"What? How—"

"Just run! Run!"

Chaos erupted. Engines roared, bikers swore, and I shoved Marvin toward the side door of the club. A chair flew past me. I ducked, grabbing a conveniently discarded traffic cone and bonking a biker on the head.

"Hey! Watch the cone!" Marvin yelled.

"I… I'm saving you, idiot!"

We barreled through a back alley, knocking over trash cans, dodging motorcycles, and narrowly avoiding a confused security guard who tripped over his own belt.

Marvin panted, holding onto my shoulder. "You know… I think that was… kind of fun?"

I groaned, glancing back at the distant neon lights. "Fun? You nearly got us both killed!"

He grinned sheepishly. "Okay… maybe slightly dangerous. But at least you're awake now, right? Road trip memories!"

By the time we stumbled back into the safety of the Volvo, both of us were covered in dirt, bruises, and an undeniable sense of ridiculousness. Marvin flopped into the passenger seat, still grinning.

"Next stop, Motorville… and maybe some coffee," I muttered, starting the engine.

"Coffee!" Marvin cheered. "And maybe donuts! Or a llama farm! You never know!"

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. This road trip was already more insane than I ever imagined.