worn out places going nowhere

look right through me, look right through me.... the words curled themselves into circles, round and round with the wheels on the wet pavement. she wondered how long she had been driving. the clock on the dash told her that it was now 2:43 but it didn't help when she didn't know when she had started. the rain came down in sheets, like laundry on a line, as soon as she passed through one another was just on the other side of it.the empty fatigue pulled at the back of her neck, twisting down her arms and numbing her finger tips, at least now all she smelled was the cheap truck stop bathroom soap and the pine freshener from the triangle hanging from the rear view mirror. the inside of the car smelled damp and forgotten, musty like a house that had been shut up for too long and suddenly opened up when newlyweds moved into the neighborhood, thinking that they would fix it up to have their little family in.It was an unassuming car, something from the late 80's, much like hundreds of other cars on the road, a nondescript color, neither tan nor brown, somewhere in the middle. The wipers scraped over the glass, whining slightly and smearing water in uneven stripes. whine sigh, whine sigh. the rhythm was almost soothing, gentle enough that it wasn't grating, too quiet to be unnerving. the radio hissed and buzzed, stations coming and going like people in an airport, here and there. always on the go to somewhere.
she lit a cigarette and cracked the window, letting in the smell of wet pavement, and oily chemicals come in, to mix with the artificial pine. the smell reminded her of a hospital, toxic and breath stealing in its sudden acidity. she scrubbed one hand over her face and flicked ash, heedless of where it dropped, no one was around to complain anyway. she inhaled deeply to see if there was any other smells on the air but there wasn't. the plastic bags and drop clothes were doing their job. she contemplated writing to the company but knew that it would never come to fruition, she wasn't the kind of client they wanted.
the road signs slid by, green and white, yellow, orange, some with blinking lights. take next left, detour 1/2 mile ahead, road closed, they meant nothing to her, she knew her destination, she'd get there right on time, it was just one of those kinds of nights.