Welcome to my blog where today I am sharing a short story I wrote based on the photograph below. Author Suzanne Burke (@pursoot) has provided this challenge which is open to everyone. For full details, visit her website at https://sooozburkeauthor.wordpress.com/


My name is Willie Nelson Johnson. Obviously, I was named for the famous country-western singer and actor. He was my mother’s favorite singer and his music played all day, every day. I know by heart every song he ever recorded.

I cannot sing or play an instrument, my hair is short, there is no beard, I am not an activist, nor have I ever smoked marijuana. The only thing I have in common with Willie, besides my name, is the love of the open road. The day I got my first car was the first day of being on the road. Over the years I have driven to as many places as my wallet and time would allow.

I grew up and now live in Wilmington, Illinois along with about 6,000 other folks. It is called “The Island City” because it is bisected by the Kankakee River. As you can see, Route 66 goes right through Wilmington. 

 We have Route 66 Antiques, Rte. 66 Bar & Grill, and the famous (or infamous) Launching Pad Drive-In where you will see one of the many giant statues based on the Muffler Man along the famous highway. These statues of fiberglass were constructed for advertising or pure decoration. Here you will find “Gemini Giant”, a 28-foot spaceman commemorating the Gemini space missions.

On July 4, 1998, I took a three-week vacation and drove the entire 2,448 miles of Route 66, also known as Mother Road. I first drove north to Chicago where it begins (or ends depending on your starting point), and then headed south and west all the way to its final stop, the Santa Monica Pier in California.

Goin’ places that I’ve never been
             Seein’ things that I may never see again

In St. Louis, I saw Eads Bridge, the oldest steel bridge, the McKinley Bridge, New Chain of Rocks Bridge, and McArthur Bridge. They are all part of Route 66. Of course, I stopped at The Arch and took the ride to the top marveling at the vista below.

One of my fondest memories is spending two days in Lebanon, Missouri. I stayed at the Munger Moss Motel and visited the amazing Route 66 Museum.

Like a band of Gypsies, we go down the highway
        We’re the best of friends

I met many people from all over the U.S. and the world. They were of all ages, races, and religions, and some of us became friends and we have stayed in touch. Sometimes we caravanned looking like a band of Gypsies.  

I stopped in Catoosa, Oklahoma for only one reason: to see the “Blue Whale”, which is one of the statues along Route 66. I drove the additional 120 miles to have a delicious meal at “Ann’s Chicken Fry House Restaurant” in Oklahoma City.

Playing my Willie Nelson tapes, I sang my heart out while I drove across Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona making a few stops to see more of the Muffler Men statues including the two Paul Bunyan’s in Flagstaff, Arizona and in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I stopped at The Big Texan Steak Ranch in Amarillo for a massive meal and visited the shooting range.

I finally crossed the California border into the very small town of Amboy. When I was there in 1998, the population was 5. It was up for sale on Ebay, but it never sold for the asking price of $1.9 million. A group of motorcyclists invited me to join them on their way to Santa Monica. They were a rough-and-tough looking group but as kind as the day is long.

The most famous place in Amboy is Roy’s Motel and Café. They refused to have their picture taken, so I snapped a photo of their motorcycles lined up.

We traveled from Amboy to the Santa Monica Pier, traveling the two-hundred miles in one day. The eight of us parked our seven motorcycles and one car. We walked to the very end of the 1909 pier. We cheered and broke out into the chorus singing On the Road Again.


Thank you for taking the time to read this short story. I welcome your comments, and please know I appreciate your support.


Author, Suzanne Burke has provided another challenge to write a short story or poem based on the photo below. For information to enter go to https://sooozburkeauthor.wordpress.com/.


I was excited to go to the Caribbean island of Barbados with my three closest friends from college. It was a five-day trip to celebrate our graduation and my upcoming marriage to my college sweetheart. What was to be a relaxing, fun, and wild trip turned out to be a nightmarish, insane, and stressful trip.

Day 1: my seat assignment was changed to the middle seat in the last row between a young mother with a baby and a 300-pound woman. The baby was asleep until the plane took off, then it cried until the plane touched down. On my other side, the obese lady snored and kept nestling her head on my shoulder.

Day 2: I awoke with a hangover after partying most of the previous night. I spent most of the early morning on the bathroom floor hanging over the toilet bowl. I felt as if I had two heads banging against each other. Some aspirin, tomato juice, and an icepack soon brought me back to normalcy.  

By late afternoon, I felt well enough to go snorkeling. The beautiful fish and coral were breathtaking. I thought I was in heaven until a jellyfish stung my left leg. I came up for air, screaming in pain. As I stepped onto the boat my left foot slipped, twisting my ankle. The rest of the day was spent at the local clinic, treating the jellyfish’s sting, and wrapping my swollen ankle. That evening I sat in my room alone, left leg elevated, an ice pack on my ankle, and enjoyed the euphoria the pain pills provided.

Day 3: The four of us stayed by the pool, playing cards, and drinking rum island drinks. This was not a good idea since I was still taking pain pills. Before I knew what happened, my face fell into my lunch plate of fish cakes with fresh fruit. I do not remember anything more about the third day of the vacation.

Day 4: The next morning, I awakened in a hammock attached to a palm tree swaying above the Caribbean water. I looked around and saw my buddies laughing and pointing at me. At first, I was angry, then I decided to enjoy the moment. The warm sun, gentle breeze, and gentle rocking of the hammock relaxed my weary body.

My leg and foot were much improved and my brain was clear of the pain pills’ effects. We rented a car and drove around the island, stopping at Harrison’s Cave where we saw stalagmites and stalactites on a tram, explored Bridgetown, and visited the Morgan Lewis sugar mill.

The day ended with dinner and drinks at a restaurant near our hotel. That was when I realized that my wallet was missing. Fortunately, I had left my passport in my room.

Day 5: My friends each pitched in and bought a first-class ticket for me.  “This has been a rough few days and we want you to be rested for your wedding tomorrow.”

I had a window seat in the last row of first-class. I had just settled down when the same obese lady sat in the aisle seat next to me. I slumped down, covered my eyes, and asked myself, “How can this be? What are the odds? What have I done to deserve this?”

No one answered my questions, but once again the lady immediately started snoring and used my shoulder as her pillow. Two rows behind me a baby cried during the entire flight.

The wedding gift from my college buddies was a 20 x 30-inch photo of the hammock hanging from the palm tree. I have it displayed in my office at work. Clients marvel at how beautiful and peaceful it looks.  I just smile and nod.

The End

Thank you for stopping by. I welcome your comments. Have you ever had a vacation that was from hell? Or what thoughts come to mind when you look at the photo?


Here is my short story in response to the Flash-Fiction photo prompt provided by award-winning author, Suzanne Burke this week.

The Park Bench

The wooden slats creaked when Jim sat down on the park bench. He held a bouquet of red chrysanthemums. The cool air, warm sun, and the smell of autumn leaves brought peace to his tired body.

It was October 18, 2019, which marked the 30th year of meeting Julie Henderson every Friday afternoon at 1:00 pm.

“Hello, darling.”

In 1989, they were strangers sitting next to one another on this same bench. Julie was reading a book and Jim was eating a sandwich. They glanced at one another and soon struck up a conversation discovering similar interests and histories. They were both divorced, each had three children and careers. Julie was a nurse and Jim was caught up in the corporate world but had dreams to open up his own restaurant.

Jim looked up to see Julie standing there as beautiful as the first time they met. He gave her the bouquet saying, “Happy anniversary, my love.”

After an hour, Julie stood up. “Oh, my goodness. I must leave and get to the hospital for the evening shift. It was nice to meet you.”

“Wait. Do you come here often? I am being presumptuous, but I would like to see you again,” Jim stammered.

Trusting her instincts, she smiled and said, “I am here every Friday at one in the afternoon. I like to come here and enjoy nature, the quiet, and to gaze at the beautiful oak tree across from this bench.”

“Perhaps we could meet here next Friday. By the way, my name is Jim Agen.” He extended his hand.

Julie took his hand and replied, “I am Julie Henderson. I’ll be here.”

They both felt a special energy sweep through them when their hands touched.

For several months, they met each Friday, same time and place. The park bench knew when they held hands for the first time, each embrace and kiss, and heard their words of affection.

When the weather changed to winter, they just swept the snow off the bench and enjoyed the wintry beauty. In the spring, they breathed in the fragrant smells from the cherry blossoms. On a hot summer day, Jim proposed to Julie. They got married on October 19, 1990, standing in front of their favorite bench decorated with red chrysanthemums and red leaves from the oak tree. It had been a part of their lives from that first meeting and was proud to be at the center of the ceremony.

Over the first months of marriage, Julie encouraged her husband. “Follow your dream of having your own restaurant. Don’t let naysayers stop you.”

With his wife’s help, Jim opened his restaurant Autumn, serving soups, sandwiches, and homemade desserts. It was a successful business and soon he opened two more restaurants naming them Autumn Leaves and Autumn Waltz. The couple filled one wall of each restaurant with books available for the customers to enjoy. Soothing music playing Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, an orchestral rendition of Autumn Waltz, or Nat King Cole singing Autumn Leaves completed the ambiance. Julie quit her job at the hospital and became the manager of all the restaurants.

Despite their busy schedules and were married, they continued to spend every Friday afternoon together on the park bench. They talked about their week, hopes and dreams, growing family, and love for each other. Julie loved to say, “I think the angels were tripping over each other to find a way for us to meet. I am grateful that you decided to have lunch in the park that Friday.”

The years passed by, and one Friday only Julie came to the park. Once again, the board creaked as she sat down, letting out a sorrowful sigh. She spent her time talking out loud as if Jim were there. A tear fell on one wooden slat and Julie thought she heard a moaning sound.

Six months later, the October sky was cloudy and the last of the oak’s leaves had fallen. It was Friday, but the park bench was empty. It missed Jim and Julie who never sat on the park bench again.

The End

I hope you enjoyed my short story and I welcome your comments. Writing in a flash-fiction format is fun and challenging at the same time. If you would like to participate in this or any future Flash-Fiction opportunity, please click on this link https://sooozburkeauthor.com

Suzanne Burke is an outstanding and creative author.