Roadside Rest Stop

Iowa has to be the most boring state to drive though. Oh, I know most of you can name somewhere worse, but when you’ve made the trip for a decade and nothing ever changes. Hell, I know exactly where I am just from looking at the mile marker signs. 236 from the Iowa border south, 114 from the Missouri border south, to 130 in Kansas, it starts in the 230’s there, too. The same numbers, the same trip, the same everything. Those damn mile markers never seemed to move faster than molasses.
I drive an old 1971 VW orange camper mobile, maybe it’s my vehicle that can’t go any faster than molasses. The wind wasn’t with me to get a good 55 MPH going. Looking out the window as a car passed me, everyone passed me, I was used to it, I could see into the vehicle. I recognized it, we’d been playing tag for over an hour. It would pass me and then fall back, then pass me again. He was from Oklahoma and drove a white pickup, a big new one.
Every time he went by, he smiled at me. This time, instead of a smile, there was a sign in the window. 213! 213 what? Looking up, I saw the sign for a rest stop at exit 213. I never did things like that, never. Then he pulled the sign down and smiled. That was it. Who cared what I never did.