FREE ESSAY ON THE LONG WALK

THE LONG WALK

The Long Walk
Walking, there appears to be no end in sight, stranded on a country road for all
eternity. It is almost dark; so far, away from all that is familiar. The trees are
groaning against the wind's fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking
for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling
through the air like discarded post-it notes: smashing, slapping against the trees and
blacktop, splat-snap. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago,
or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful day; has panic from
hunger and walking so long finally caught up. Waking up this morning, had I been warned
of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the surprising twist
of fate that awaited me, I would have gotten up nonetheless. 
It was a sunny day, even though the remnants of last week's snowstorm still blanketed
most of the surrounding area. I decided, after fumbling around the house for a few hours,
lethargy creeping in, that I would go for a drive in my trusty old Maverick. I purchased
the dark blue 1975, Ford Maverick, from a used car lot ten years past its prime. It was a
good car and until today, I had not had any problems with it. There was nothing planned
for this trip, no basket of food prepared, or any other preparations taken, just a spur
of the moment kind of drive. Living in the city can be depressing so getting away from
the concrete jungle for a few hours was a welcomed escape. I have not lived in this city
for very long and although I knew several of the names of the adjoining towns, there were
a few that I did not know. However, being the adventurer that I am, I drove off in a
direction that I have never been. I do not know why I did not think to look at the gas
gauge before I left; perhaps I was too preoccupied with the thought of fleeing that I did
not care. 
After an hour or so, now coasting on a narrow old country road, I began to sense the
problem with my car even before it actually happened. As if there was a telepathic
connection from man to machine. Almost as soon as the thought blasted into my
consciousness, I started to feel the thrashing and lurching from the cars fuel
starvation. I did not worry though, at least not right away. Because, over the last
twenty or so years I have become somewhat of a shade-tree mechanic: If it can be fixed, I
can fix it, at least the basic things anyway. However, this situation was different,
because I was out of gas. I parked the car on the side of the road, exited; being careful
of oncoming traffic and went to the trunk to get the spare gallon of gas that I always
kept there. I opened the truck and instantly realized that while cleaning the trunk out
the other day I forgot to put the gas back in afterwards. 
Hence, there I was, stranded on this narrow country road, burrowing through the foliage
that was exploding everywhere, with my broken down Maverick. I was two hours drive from
home and getting hungry. I reached for my wallet only to find that I too, had left that
at home. Being sure to lock up my car before I left, I started walking. It was starting
to get cold and a dark gathering of clouds stared to form through the thick canopy of
trees, almost instantly. I assumed that I was headed in the right direction only I had no
idea if I was. Minutes turned into quarter hours, as I shuffled forward. The day had been
nice when I started out late this morning, however, now, it was turning quite ugly.
Stumbling forward, a vision from so very long ago is beckoning: knocking on the awareness
of years past, as a child. I had been bad and as punishment was halfhazardly escorted
into the cellar, or basement if you will to spend the night. I was afraid. It was night
and I was only six years old. I remember it so clearly. There was not much in the way of
comfort in our cellar. A rusted old water heater, which clanked and banged to life every
hour, sat in one corner, surrounded by cobwebs thick as cotton candy. It resided in its
own spot, perhaps a hundred years away from the narrow walkway, which was less than a
foot across. On another side of our dungeon sat an old worn workbench dusty from lack of
care; just standing there, with canning jars placed indiscriminately nearby. In the
middle of the subterranean crypt was the play area where us kids usually had to play
during the day. Here sat a rectangle crib framed squarely by steel padded poles with
fish-netting walls hanging three feet from the floor. This familiar wicked playpen
suddenly did not seem so comforting; after all, it was soon to be my overnight quarters.
Entering the confine, after having been told that this was home for the night, I took
little solace in the stuffed animals that encircled the enclosure. As my make-believe
parent left, I settled in for a long night ahead. 
Walking now, floating in and out of reality, pitch as black not a car in sight. Have I
slipped into a different dimension? Trapped in a time warp? It seems like days have
passed. Why hasn't anyone given me a lift? 
I awoke to a crashing sound, awkwardly sensing the dense cellar air, my coconsciousness
screaming to go back to sleep. As I slowly became aware of my right mind, suddenly I
realized, that I was not alone. Fear swept through me like a sandstorm through a chain
link fence. I did not know what to think. Was it someone playing a cruel joke or was it
something else; some demons come to get me. I was huddled right next to the thin fishnet
walls trying to feel the security of that flimsy backing, but alas, I did not.
Unexpectedly, a slight gust of air splashed my forehead, I wanted to get up and run: run
as fast as I could, but where? There was nowhere to run. My heart, now doing a hundred
and eighty miles an hour, felt like it would soon split open and spill its contents. I
was frozen; I did not know what to do. Slowly, I crept towards the center of the pen and
covered myself with the stuffed animals that were all around me. I knew that at any
moment the thing in the cellar would soon get me. I shut my eyes. 
The light was blinding. Where was it coming from? Slowly, I realized where I was, on the
dark country road. The road, being so narrow, forced me to walk on the better half of the
main part, which put me in harms way from passing cars. Having vanished now, in and out
of awareness for what, I looked at my watch, four hours. Walking, slouched over, I can
only imagine what the passing motorists thought as they overtook me on the road. No
wonder why I am still walking. The lights advanced on me and for an instant, I thought I
was road kill. As the car slowed down, I stepped off the asphalt onto the soft shoulder.
It was slushy and muddy from the winter's weather. The car came to a halt and the side
window slowly rolled down. A elderly voice spoke out through the darkness,  Are you
alright there young feller, for an instant and only an instant I was afraid, but as soon
as I heard that calm tone in the mans voice I began to relax. Yes, I said. Then I told
the man my story. After a few minutes of talking to each other, he too seemed more
relaxed. Then, he offered to help me, which I did not refuse. I hoped in the car and off
we drove towards my lifeless Maverick. He had some spare gas on hand and gave it to me. I
told him that if he would give me his address, that I would mail him the money. He said,
Not to bother, but you can return the favor by helping someone else out, I said, yes,
that I would surely help someone out if I was in a position to do so. Subsequently, after
starting up my car with his last voice saying good luck, he was gone. 
This whole ordeal has been a tremendous learning experience for me. I have never again
gone for a spur of the moment drive, without knowing that my trunk is equipped with a
gallon of water, an emergency first aid kit, and more importantly a full, two and a half
gallon can of gasoline. The place where my mind went, on that old country road, has put
into perspective for me that no matter what kind of dark, cold, and deserted
circumstances I might find myself in, a power greater than myself always intervenes. 
Bibliography
I was stranded in the middle of no-where with my 
broken down Maverick.