On the Road Again

I was home for two days before packing and heading out on another adventure. One of the goals of my 57^th year is to spend more time with family and friends. This is an easy goal, except for the travel. This time I am driving. I’ve had more than my share of delayed flights and gate changes to last a while, at least until December when I travel back to New York for the birth of my grandson.

I enjoy driving. I enjoy the solitude of the west Texas roads. I do not like driving in big city traffic. I’ve lived in small towns my entire adult life and am not accustomed to the energy of city highways and byways. Nor do I want to be. Give me a flat stretch of lonely highway any day.

Lately I’ve had to share these roads with “oilfield traffic.” That means dually pick-up trucks driven by good-ole-boys and semis hauling water and fossil fuel to and from the fracking fields of the Texas oil boom towns. Every day I hear news of grisly wrecks caused by the increased traffic. It concerns me; all of it. The environmental and personal safety issues have encroached upon my small town lifestyle.

I want to shout, “Get off of my road.” My road? Really? I’ll take a deep breath, grip the steering wheel a little tighter, slow down and learn to share the road. Sharing the blame for the rape of the land isn’t something I’m willing to do. The boom will end someday. The resources will be tapped, gone forever. We will have to find other sources. Perhaps the roads will once again become desolate, dotted only by wind turbines. One can hope.