Less-traveled roads are usually teeming with TEENAGERS… racing their hot rods and playing their rock and roll music on their god-forsaken guitars. THEY ARE OUT OF CONTROL AND THEIR MUSIC IS JUST NOISE!!!
No chain restaurants in out of the way places… just family-owned places like “Mom’s” and “Red’s Eats”, where the food seems okay at first, but as you chew and think, you get the distinct impression that the sausage patty might be an ex-employee.
Ghost Hitchhikers. You pick them up because you feel sorry for them and drive them home… AND IT TURNS OUT TO BE A GRAVEYARD!!! One of them still has my wallet and I really need it back…
If aliens are going to abduct you, study you, anally probe you and then put you back in your pickup truck, that ain’t gonna happen on I95.
Google maps can be pretty accurate and get you to your destination; or, it can dump you into a ditch at the end of a dead-end road in the middle of Wyoming’s timber wolf preserve.
Your car might break down in the middle of nowhere and after hours of walking you might come across a woman’s house in a remote area just off the road. A beautiful, intoxicating, elegant woman who you fall madly for and she falls madly for you and then you see in her closet that she has over a dozen hats FOR HER DOG so you flee the house and run until your lungs explode and life leaves your body.
Law enforcement officials in out-of-the-way towns have a surprisingly elastic set of ethics.
The one-lane bridge and tractor trailer just ahead are inconsistent with your type-a personality and you are undone by your own hubris; in fact, you are upside-down at the bottom of a river and your hubris is quickly floating downstream.
You come across old tourist venues from before the interstate highways… like amusement parks; but, instead of hundreds of delighted and screaming children, there are just two or three very focused homicidal clowns…
The highway numbers on back roads are longer than my social security id.