pontiac sunfire.

The clock in my car says 3:32, while I know that it's really only 2:32 because of the autumn time change. No matter, it's late. I'm driving on an unfamiliar stretch of Interstate 40, discussing the history of Halloween with Josh and whether the holiday could be considered evil. I'm holding my own in this argument, which is unusual, but then again, he's had a few beers.

Up ahead, blue lights. I begin to slow down, because I can't tell whether the lights are on the side of the road or actually in it. As we get closer, we see orange lights, too: a huge fire. Then I see a tiny white light as a police officer stands in the left lane with a flashlight, waving us to stop. His car is the source of the blue lights in the right lane, and the orange lights are coming from a gold Pontiac on the right shoulder as it burns.

"I don't reckon she's gonna blow up, do you?" the officer says to another as he dons an orange vest reading "Wallace Fire Department." I realize that we were made to stop a safe distance away so that no one would be driving by in case the car did explode. I would have wanted to stop anyway; it's not every day you see a car on fire. We hear various pops and wheezes as the fire quickly took over more of the car's real estate. Even from the opposite shoulder, we can feel the heat.

We wait as a few cars line up behind us, other late night travellers. We are directed to the shoulder as the volunteer fire department arrives and puts out the blaze. Once it is out, we're allowed to proceed, and so we did, and it was all over. We are silent for a few minutes.

"We just saw a car on fire," Josh finally says.

"Yeah. I'm trying to find some meaning in it."

"Why?"

"Because if we were in a book or a movie, then it would be a sign. You know, symbolic of something, or signify a turning point or an epiphany for one or both of us."

"Yeah, you're right. But we're not in a book. This is real life, and nothing means anything. People search for meaning in everything, and you can delude yourself that you know what everything means, but you really don't. No one does."

I say nothing and put my hand on his leg as I drive. I agree with him, and I don't, and what's more, I don't think he even believes what he's said. Many people do search for deeper meaning where it doesn't exist, but that doesn't mean that deeper meaning doesn't exist. The burning car doesn't necessarily mean anything for us. Maybe it meant something significant to one of the people in the cars behind us; maybe not. Maybe it was just a car on fire.

The matter all seems to be in the personal interpretation of events. It could be that a dude in one of the other cars had been driving along with an inner debate and somehow the burning Pontiac made something clear in his head. Whether he was "meant" to see the Pontiac and "meant" to come to that conclusion is up for debate; that's what happened regardless. Maybe I was meant to see the blaze, find no obvious meaning, and post a blog about it, so that someone else could make some sense out of it. Maybe not. Either way, I've done my part.