The wooden cross hanging from the rear view mirror dangles as we go over a gravel patch in the road. All I can see for miles and miles down this long stretch is corn and the occasional shed or barn. Here we are, the middle of nowhere, La Crosse, Indiana. La Crosse has a population of around 640 and covers only 0.57 square miles, making it a tight knit town where everyone knows everyone. I’m sitting in the backseat of my dad’s truck along with my best friend ,Sydney, and my dog, Bella. 

Sydney is from Indiana, a town about fifteen minutes south from where I spent every weekend from the ages of one to thirteen. Indiana has a certain smell to it, if you will, a smell that I can only describe as my childhood. Maybe it's my dad’s boot leather, or maybe it's that disgusting orange gum he's always chewing, or maybe, just maybe, it's the absence of pollution, that natural fresh air that my dad swears knocks him right out at night. Fresh air and natural settings can regulate sleep cycles and improve heart health, which means maybe my dad isn’t insane for thinking the magic air puts him to sleep.

I often call my dad by his first name, John. Although it’s often viewed as a sign of disrespect, my family looks at it a bit differently. My dad calls his mother by her first name, Dorothy, and as a sign of protest when I was younger I would call my dad by his first name. It stuck and I continued calling him that, almost as a nickname. My dad is a character amongst my friends and he always introduces himself as John. Me and my friends share stories featuring John rather than ‘Alondra’s dad’. Of course I still love and respect him, but more than my dad he is also one of my best friends. Therefore my dad retired ‘Mr. LaMonica’ and picked up John. 

Nonetheless here I am, age fifteen, with Syd and Bella in the backseat of John’s souped up King Ranch F-150. This truck is single handedly the best vehicle I’ve ever driven, given at this point I only had my permit and have driven two kinds of cars before. Between my lack of experience and my cousin’s beat up Jeep wrangler, this truck takes the cake. I learned how to drive a golf cart at seven years old, a four-wheeler by nine, and a boat by the time I was twelve. Other than the rare decision to let me sit in his lap and steer down a country road, John would never trust me with his precious truck. 

Driving down the road nearly dozing off, I suddenly get an idea. “When are you gonna let me drive this thing?” I ask him, shooting a sly look at Syd. 

“Well, I guess you’re old enough now. I’ll pull over in a couple miles and let you drive.” I’m shocked that he would really let me drive, even with Syd in the car. I look at Syd and let out a giggle. 

“Should I be scared of you driving?” Syd teases. She playfully punches my arm and laughs in my face. I roll my eyes back at her, smiling. 

Just like he said, he pulls over in a mile or two and gets in the passenger seat to let me take the reins. I start off a little slow and cautious, keeping my foot on the brake. John is always telling me horror stories about how someone somewhere got into a terrible car accident because they weren’t watching the road and a deer jumped in front of their truck. My moods clash at this moment - feeling excited to drive yet nervous to mess up. After about 15 minutes of freaking out,  I open up and start going the speed limit. I feel a little more comfortable after John shows me how to fix my seat and mirrors so I can properly see. 

As I’m fixing my rear view mirror I catch a glimpse of Syd looking out the window at the fields, with Bella in her lap. She has this look in her eye, a look of innocence and playfulness that makes me smile. I know that Indiana reminds her of her childhood and I am so lucky that I have a friend that also experiences that same feeling. Sometimes I wish I could go back. I wish I could go back home, to that place where I was constantly surrounded by family and where I had nothing to worry about. My favorite thing to do was watch the river go by and see the sunset. Maybe the thing I liked about it was watching time pass by, but I wish I hadn’t. I wish I could freeze that moment and capture it in a jar and just watch it flow. 

I get back to the road and focus on where I’m going. I see another huge truck coming towards us and start freaking out again. I visibly start getting anxious again but then my dad steps in. He tells me to wave to the truck. Confused and still scared, I do as he says and lift two fingers off the wheel as the truck passes by. 

“Look he said hey back!” Syd laughs. John and I are both laughing along with her and I am beaming with confidence. 

I am a strong believer in the fact that the driver should pick the music, but John refuses to play ‘any of that new rap stuff’ so I’m stuck with the seventies channel he swears by. One of my favorites is playing now, ‘Take It Easy’ by Eagles. John tells Syd and I about the time he stood ‘on a corner in Winslow, Arizona’ and how we should make it a point to do the same at least once in our lives. Syd and I just laugh with him and I try to stay focused on the road. 

John loves to talk, so much to the point where he's friends with anyone. He’s even friends with my friends, including Syd, who just so happens to be his favorite. He forgets a lot of my friends' names, but never Syd, who he often calls ‘Oak Park’ or ‘Rensselaer’. Syd’s dad, James, is a judge in Indiana and still works there. John loves James, and I think it’s because they are both alike. They look alike, have similar families, but the most important commonality is that they are both strong Hoosiers. 

Syd and I laugh at all of his jokes -as niche as they are- and just enjoy the moment. I roll the window down and let the air rush through my hair. I can feel the crisp, fresh air coursing through my veins and I know I am getting the best sleep of my life later that night.