Sunday night. 7:40 pm. I-70 eastbound. Darkness had set in as we approached the Boonville exits. Two giant 18-wheelers grew rapidly in my rearview mirror. They looked like prairie cruise ships, each outlined in ten thousand tiny amber lighbulbs. Even though Erifnus, my car, was cruising at 71 mph, the first rig passed us quickly. I barely had enough time to read the panels on the side of the trailer, framed in lights like a carnival sideshow. NASCAR. A dozen sponsor logos. The second rig passed us just as quick, just as bulbular, dressed in green and orange Go Daddy colors. I guess the trucks were traveling in tandem from a NASCAR race in Kansas City a few hours earlier. Both rigs were in a hurry. Maybe there was a race at midnight in St. Louis. Nah. More likely, these 18 wheelers like to go fast because, well, they haul speed demons, and speed is infectious. Speed on, NASCAR circus trucks. But damn, it makes it hard to read your rolling billboard.
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