Roadkill!

The road trip asphalt is a grave to the creatures of the earth. Howling predators pancake them, and scream onward uncaring. Gravity and the infinite vehicles continually plaster bodies to the street until the two are one and the same. Sort of like an asphalt animal gut conglomeration, a dazzling myriad of colors. I think the flattened fur skins give America's roads a nice homely appeal, don't you? Only the TV and the roaring fire are missing. Miles long the graveyard bleeds, and only the human deaths are specially marked for memory. Humans get roses and crosses; their bodies carefully removed. Animals get the beating asphalt: their pained fearful eyes are their monument, a tire imprint marks their deaths. Accidents in time. So the next time you drive a car on the long and winding road, tip your hat to the forgotten critters who continually give their lives for our transportation, not to mention our vast-but-bleak entertainment.