Drove from Little Water, New Mexico to Wichita Falls, Texas today. I’m taking a lift arm section off a LeTourneau L-2350 wheel loader (I’m geeking out here, but if you care, it’s basically a gargantuan earth mover used in the mining industry) to Longview, Texas from Elko, Nevada. This makes my first trip to Texas in eleven years, and my first time below the panhandle of the state.
Commercial driving (aka: trucking) offers unique opportunities to a person who experiences wanderlust: you get to see a stupidly vast amount of country and almost never get to enjoy it to the fullest. The quandary is you are getting paid by someone to transport goods from A to B; you’re not getting paid to stop off at a Navajo fireworks stand and stock up on dirt cheap M-1000s which may or may not go off in the packaging. OK, that could be justified as part of one’s mandatory half-hour break, but the point has been made.
The sweeping landscapes in New Mexico and Texas feel like they were ripped out of coffee table art book or a cinematic masterpiece. The ache I felt just watching it all go by could easily have been accompanied by a John Williams orchestral piece. In fact, I often have an imaginary, revolving soundtrack going on for everyday life. I’m driving along and on a sunny day, and (BAM!) suddenly Tom Petty’s “Learning to Fly” becomes part of a completely fabricated montage sequence.
I’m rambling towards the point of incoherency so I shall wrap this post up, crawl into the sleeper and drift to sleep to the sound of the CAT diesel engine, torrents of rain and the flash of lightning.