Jack Balas, 1992; TIME ZONE; oil on canvas; 32" x 35"
"I climbed back into the truck when dusk was almost gone, and now just out of Show Low the dips in the highway are filling with fog. Nearly every star is out -- even the dash glows in its own constellation, and halfway to Payson the moon comes up, every drive seems to lead to the right cabin, all pumping smoke into the sky. I pull over and get out. No one, just the ping of the engine as it cools. But then I hear it, the sputter of a plane swimming somewhere between Orion and the Big Dipper. It must be a sign, the cigarette in the dark. Bingo! I hit the highbeams and there she is, Doris Day, floating in loud and clear over the station from Flagstaff."