Here, it is the land of many things, including some good hard pockets of conservatism. Nice to live in a land where we all get to choose; where we each get to vote and make our choices known.
Course, this is also the land of young men with HUGE pickups, the bigger and more fitted out, why, the better. Careening down blocked off flooded roads ; and from the looks of it this morning, racing off the road last night and deep into the spring pond's mud.
I remind myself that I was a 19, renting some small Barrio cottage in Albuquerque, with a giant yellow four-wheel-drive truck, back in the day when you had to take a running start just to get up into the monster. I had myself two Willy's Jeeps over the years, too, a delight in rain or snow or that itchiness that can overtake you and yearn for some unorthodox rides in the late afternoon.
As I head back home after sitting with the sunrise, one enormous yellow creature billowing dark smoke ,and thundering the type of racketing muffler my own firstborn attached to slinky low fast cars, barrels past me on a hill, a curve, and off up the mountain.
Yeah, I remember. Racing about, careless, driven, taking no heed. Somehow, when we end up older and still here, we are taken aback with wonder. That we are one of the ones who somehow made it through.
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