2DREZQ

There's a unique feeling when you're alone on the road. You look in your rearview mirror; Nothing. You strain your eyes forward; no movement breaks the shimmering mirage thar warps the horizon.
Something inside you changes. Deep in your gut the faintest tickle of unease stirs. The hairs on the back of your neck are primed to rise up at any stimulus at all. you're alone, more alone, somehow, behind the wheel, than if you were afoot.
You switch off the radio. Something about the music makes the empty highway seem more lonely than the silence. The engine noise, imperceptible until now, impinges on your ears. Did it sound like that before? The faint rush of the dry wind, the soft hum of rubber on hot asphalt, you can hear them now. And something else. Something not quite a sound, but not quite anything else.
You wouldn't want to break down out here! This must be what the Australian outback is like.
After a little while longer the road becomes, to you, a part of the environment, as if it had been here forever. A part of the desert, not something made by men. An ancient landmark. Uncovered, just as it is today, when the glaciers retreated 100,000 years ago.
There's movement up ahead. A form rises out of the hazy distance and slowly gains substance. More solid by the minute, it's an 18-wheeler, a big, blue Kenworth. The huge silver grill flashing sunlight as it shivers to the vibration of the road. A tanker truck. Gasoline, probably. Headed for that town 45 miles behind you. The Jeep shudders slightly as the KW disrupts the airflow, creating compression waves and turbulence as the two vehicles pass within 3 feet.
The truck is barely past when a minivan comes into view. The road's not empty anymore, and the unease in your gut retreats. The road is just a road, and you've got someplace you've got to be.
But you think, for just a moment, about what you were told. Maybe you could have heard it if you had tried harder. It's gone for now, but you'll remember. Next time you'll listen for the song.