Red Road Descriptive Writing

I went sixty down a beatin up back road, even under my high beam’s light it’s paint was barely visible. The neon red clock to the right of my steering wheel blinked a 1:14 AM. The radio had cut out just ten minutes before, but the silence it left made it feel like entirety. The growl of my car, the howl of the wind, and the pounding of rain was all I could hear. A thick layer of dull, gray clouds blocked all light from the sky. It seemed like ages since I had passed a single soul on this broken road. The speed limit died down to thirty-five as I approached a railroad crossing. Without warning, a deafening horn jerked me to attention. Red lights began flashing and I hammered the breaks, my car screeching to a stop. I sat there, a few feet behind the orange and white bars, as the rain quickened and the silence threatened to crawl into my car. The train thundered past, rattling me in my seat. It disappeared into the distance and the bars shuddered back into their default positions as the fluorescent red lights grew dim. Crossing the tracks lead me to the small town of Solon. Most street lights were out and the few that weren’t fought a losing battle with the night.

There had been no towns on the route I was going the last time I checked. Anxiously, I pulled over and checked my phone. I had missed a turn about a mile back and was now off schedule by at least an hour. Not only that, but the fastest way back was through this depressing town. The roads cracked, the street lights almost non existent, I continued on. The rain began to play a song in the absence of my radio but was interrupted by a soft ding. I could have sworn I had filled my tank up before I left. Earlier my father had mentioned problems with the tank but I had never noticed anything wrong. Until now. The lights died and my car rolled to a complete