There’s nothing like passing your time on a road trip by listening to books on tape (or in our case, on CDs) as the miles click by. But I don’t think I would recommend The Highway by C.J. Box. Certainly not if you are a woman traveling alone. And thank goodness I don’t fit that category – not on this journey, anyway.

I’ve made the trip from the Bay Area to Oysterville and back many times on my own. More than once (when I was young and foolish) I drove straight through, stopping now and then for coffee to keep alert during the thirteen-hour drive. It was in the days before CDs and tapes, before cell phones and GPSes. There was radio, of course, but between towns it was staticky and unreliable – not worth the trouble.

During the day when there were other travelers on the road, it never occurred to me to feel insecure. Nighttime travel was another thing, though. I usually made necessary stops for gasoline or coffee at brightly lit truck stops. There was always activity and the waitresses were usually friendly and full of information about road conditions etc. The truckers talked among themselves sometimes but I don’t remember that they ever even made eye contact with me.

Sometimes, my little VW bug and I would pull back onto the road right behind one of the big eighteen-wheelers. When that occurred, I’d usually stick behind them letting them set the pace and light the way. I thought of them as my “fearless leaders” and somehow felt I could rely on them for help if it was needed. There were several long-haul truckers among the parents of kids I taught and they always struck me as good guys.

But, now that we are ‘reading’ The Highway, I’m re-thinking my naïve ways of long ago. The book is about a trucker who is a serial killer – picks up his young women victims at truck stops as he travels across the country.  He preys upon the “lot lizards,” as he calls them — mostly broken-down druggies trying to sell their wares among the “knights of the road” who have stopped to catch a few hours’ sleep in the overnight parking area.

It’s a creepy book. One of those compelling thrillers that you hope will turn out well but, even halfway through, is going badly… I don’t recommend it as travel reading. No sirree!