11.7

I was in the west Texas panhandle when the road turned to absolute snot under my tires, as packed-dirt roads are wont to do in a sudden shower. Sometimes, I think back to that nasty old abandoned house and the puddle, the mold, the cracks and the collapses. I think back to the cows that trooped in like neighbors dropping by on a Sunday afternoon, just to check on you after church and say hello before heading home. Sometimes, I wish I were back on the road, picking the stickiest, most unlikeable mud from between my fender and my tire. Sometimes, I wish I were back walking my bicycle through the ditch, surrounded by yucca and sage. Sometimes, I wish I were back in that collapsing hovel, eating the last of my food, hoping against hope that I would see New Mexico tomorrow.

I would do it all again, if I were born again today. But I would prefer that you came with me. Honestly? Adventures are better shared.