miles and miles

I was raised to get mileage out of a car. A LOT of mileage. As a kid, we had a Blue VW bus we drove (I should say, my mom and dad drove across country while my sisters, Amy and Susie and I sprawled in the back playing games and singing songs). We did a round trip NY - California, stopping in National Parks along the way. During this trip my dad would say... "we're closing in on xx, 000 miles!" and we would take turns edging up front to witness the odometer turn. I don't remember what the increments were, but each one was exciting and a small reason to celebrate. Miles marked experiences and things enjoyed on the road.
I've been watching my odometer on my '69 pickup eagerly. On my way home from my Pismo Beach trip, my truck was reborn. And I had my own mini celebration. On a long stretch of empty highway, the odometer flipped to 00000. I pulled over to photograph it and I wished I had a friend to witness it. I looked up at the sign, "Saint Jon Road" right in front of me. No other signs for miles but this one. Not "Saint John" but "Saint Jon". Jon was one of my favorite people in the world to road trip with. We all miss him. A big smile came across my face as I realized that he is hanging out and looking out for me during those miles on the road.