Scenes from the road

I'm driving along Rt. 280 on my way to Carlsbad, New Mexico. The sunny landscape is giving way to a lightning storm, which I'm driving straight into.

I flick through the radio stations and come across a DJ who poses the question: "If you could have 50 lbs of anything excluding gold, money or jewels, what would it be?"

I'm driving and trying to take pictures of the lightning storm at the same time.



I silently wonder if the president, upon becoming president, immediately heads out to Area 51 to see if all the rumors about harboring aliens are true, now that he has the highest security clearance in the land.

I realize with little surprise that I no longer measure time with hours or days, but instead with distance. As in, when calling a friend, exclaiming, "Sweet bastard I haven't talked to you since Kentucky!" It's deceptive, of course. With so much happening each day, Kentucky feels like years ago.

It starts to rain.

I decide I'd pick 50lbs of something notoriously light, like feathers, just so I could have more of it.

The road can get lonely sometimes...