Desert Transit Type IX
I40 between Barstow and Needles
I wonder, as I cross the Mojave, if somewhere out in those vast stretches there might be a quasi-hippie mounted upon a steed of the equine variety. Said steed lacking any designated appellation due to the rider/writers inability to communicate or experience actual emotional connection. Said steed also slowly going insane as his rider strums an acoustic guitar incessantly and spouts nonsensical and disjointed lyrics that defy all the strictures of grammar.
Or perhaps said steed took advantage of a momentary rest break to kick his rider into the nearest arroyo, leaving said rider to hallucinate a happy ending to his journey before dying of heat stroke and/or dehydration, leaving only a desiccated husk that will never be found.
Look at all that fun! Oh boy!
I know you wish you were me.
I wish you were me too.
That’s one hell of a compliment! Thank you! Most people tell me I almost look like someone they can’t remember or whose name they never knew. What a nice change this is. Thanks again!
The mark of a quality neighborhood.
Either the vandals are 8ft tall, or they carry step ladders around with them.