Yesterday I was driving west when I came upon a flyway. It’s a left exit that swings over two other roads on its way back to earth. Looking at such a monstrosity from below fills me with dread and anxiety. Is it safe, well built? Will I go too fast and fall off?

But these are the worries of the land lubber. Once I’m on the flyway I am in awe of the view. I can see the front line of the Blue Ridge as it extends from north to south. I am escaping the quotidian. I am, for a moment, flying.