On the Road

An RV Park with a big neon sign at the end of a dead-end street is a strange place to find your Mojo. But that’s just what Joe and I did today. We pulled in the night before and took our place on one of the concrete parking slabs near the showers. The showers were good. The next morning it was crisp and sunny and we walked over to a sort of ledge with a fence that marked-off the RV park from the endless farmland that ranged out in gentle hills for a hundred miles in every direction. The wind was blowing on us so hard it felt like we were in a wind tunnel. We were stretching out our arms and legs. Joe closed his eyes and stretched out his arms and was quickly born aloft. I planted my left foot forward, dug my right elbow into my ribs and put out my left hand out like the Heisman. And the same wind that got Joe got me and I began to run upon the clouds. Of course I wasn’t really running on top of the clouds, it was just that I was breathing real hard and what with the wind blowing against my face like it was and the space in front of me being a great big valley, that’s exactly how it felt.