Just pull over and park it

 

Down to the last dime, the last mile

No further could we drive.

Our engine sputtered, and ground to a stop.

The sun beat upon the meager shade.

We could go no further.

Just stop.

Now.

The dust floated down slowly, choking hope.

Father pulled over, tipped his hat and 

squinted into the bright sun.

That map, useless as a two-dollar bill.

Slowly, we crawled out, our skin clung to the leather.

Sweating from every pore, we searched for shade.

Up ahead, we could see something interesting.

Our energy suddenly energized by the sight.

The totem lured us to safety, or so we thought.