Revision

"Where the streets have no name" by U2
Air as ice cut across our lips and stilled our breath, starry lights peering down from above. Doors opened then closed, and the silence within the Ford Escape died as the engine hummed. Eric, Isaac and I had brought the scent of all-you-can-eat chicken soup with us; Eric and I brought a sense of adventure. We reached the highway, miles and miles of darkness. As we drove we blared songs by U2, songs everyone knew. No light occupied the road except ours, but we changed that. Our headlights flashed off then on, first for a couple seconds, then a few, then more. The lights above lit the sky but not the road; the headlights of our Escape did the same, except they didn't light the sky. Isaac as a conscience thought it best to keep the lights turned on, but adventure said the road was clear, smooth, glass, where the streets have no name. Five seconds, seven, the lights flashed on and off. Each interval ratified our actions, still alive. As agreeable as experiment was, common sense always finds a way to prevail, and it did. Our headlights stayed on and Eric, Bono and I regrouped with Isaac to find something else we were looking for.