The road ends right here. This very spot. Been like this for years, they tell me. Every now and then, the town council will pass a decision to extend it out to the freeway, but no one can ever find enough money for the last mile and a quarter. So nothing gets done. And the road ends. Right here. I sorta like it that way. I come out here, where it's all peaceful and quiet. I lean against the blinking light and look up at the stars. It's nice. Every now and then, some car will come along. The driver'll see the blockade, and I can hear the occasional "^%&%$$%!!!!!!" Then they turn around in a big storm of gravel and dust and high tail it back to town, thinking there might be some other road to the interstate. There never is, but cant blame them for trying, huh? But I'll come out here and just look up and enjoy. Sometimes I think maybe I should get my backpack and just hike the last mile and a quarter to the interstate -- and then I'll stop and ask myself, Well, self, why bother? It's a good place to end a road. It's an honest one. No detours that take you fifteen miles out of your way, just a blinking yellow light that says, "End of the road. Deal with it." Some folks cant. Others, like me, can. That's life. Look, up there: a star.