As I coasted to a quiet stop a small herd of pronghorn grazed on patches of green just to the side of the road. The second fastest land animal topping out at 55mph for about a half mile distance, they can cruise around at 35mph for about four miles before stopping. The cheetah may be faster but these fleet footed relatives of giraffes can run for longer periods of time. They fill a parallel niche on this continent as the antelope do in Africa and Eurasia. Out running their ancient predators through eons they outpaced extinction only to be nearly wiped out at the turn of the 20th Century by mankind.
They also make for horrid art on the roadways. I began to just think of them as “blood bags.” The scattered frequency of their exploded remains decorated the highways in Romero tones of color. Sometimes there's only one and sometimes there’d be a small group all killed together. The semi-trucks towing up to three trailers leave little but a rouge, chunky spatter.
No matter how much I tried to just ignore it, the sound of them passing under my wheels would always register in my mind. A mind rolling over its own splotches of roadkill as it explored the back roads of my memories. Just about every bloody, intense encounter of my life decorated the way. I tried not to look too closely at what bright, alive part of me had been pulverized by the hauled freight of trauma, all three trailers driven by myself of course. Cruising in my rig of pain I also began to realize that a lot of the freight was not my own.
This very real journey was different though. Instead of just dashed remains I began to take note of every living prairie antelope I saw. By the time I came to a stop to look back I felt hope for what lay ahead.
I was going to leave as much freight as I could on the road I was taking to go get Peggy.
#GottaGetPeggy #OIIIIIIIO #JourneyToTheWest
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