It is thirty miles from Holbrook to St. Johns, Arizona. Late one night, when I was very young, my father was driving his car from Holbrook, home to St. Johns. The roads at that time were very bad and the cars were 1950s cars, so you can imagine that the trip took considerably more time back then, than it does now. On that trip, my father and mother were talking to each other and suddenly they looked up and they were driving into St. Johns. The whole trip had taken a remarkable fifteen minutes on the clock.
Some years later, I was driving the road from Albuquerque to Gallup, New Mexico. I remember driving along the road towards Grants, when the next thing we knew we were driving into Gallup. No time seems to have passed on the clock.
This same experience has happened several times since. I recall having the experience on various occasions. I cannot remember driving between the various locations and no one in the car can remember the trip either.
This is something to ponder.
The Lost Day — A Short Short Story - Lost Day
4 hours ago