
From time to time I get to wander the back roads of the West. To me there is nothing like the sound of the rocks, sand and gravel as you roll onto a dirt road. As I drive along and see all the abandoned shacks and buildings, I think of a time when life was simpler. I love those little towns. I was raised in a city near Los Angeles, but always hated it. I felt like a rat in a cage. The daily grind was so unbearable. I would run away to the deserts every weekend, I called it my sanctuary. And would refer to coming back to the city as: Returning to the soup. If it weren’t for those trips to the desert I think I might have lost my mind.
I love to travel those back roads of the west, you know the ones, from Reno or Boise to Vegas or Barstow, or Phoenix to Parker or Baker, and so many in between. I love to find a nice deserted area in which to park and watch as the sun sets over the desert horizon. I sit there alone with my thoughts in the silence of the evening. And as the moon peaks out over the desert floor, I think about the words that Buzz Aldrin used to describe the moon back in 1969: “The magnificent desolation”. I think about those words and what they mean to me. A place of wonder, of beauty, of awe inspiring majesty, a place where the silence is deafening, a place where you can find yourself, or lose yourself. Either way, there’s no where else I’d rather be.
After running long and hard it’s great to be able to stop and get away from all the madness, to be able to get a night of peace and quite. So if in your travels you find yourself in this desert wasteland I love so much, and have thoughts of parking those 18 wheels of yours to take some time, please be courteous and don’t park next to mine


Catch ya on the flip:
WarMan

Comment By:
VM on Thu, Nov 15 2007 @ 2:20 AM [PST]