|
Slim Randles' Home Country
A measured risk assessment gives way
Send a link to a friend
[September 08, 2007]
Florencio Ortiz, being on the passenger side of the
pickup, got out and opened the gate to the Kelly pasture and closed
it after Bob Milford drove through it. Then the two were off again,
heading up the dirt road on the Diamond W that leads to a lonely
windmill in need of checking. |
 There's nothing out here to hit but maybe a careless cow, so a man
driving a pickup truck can afford a few minutes of philosophy. Bob
was beginning to appreciate moments of philosophy more and more
these days.Life, he thought, could be compared to one of these
rough old ranch roads in some ways -- these rough old trails that
cut across timber, through grass and arroyos and mudholes until they
reach a windmill, house, corral, campsite or some other rural
treasure.
The driver of a pickup on this kind of hard corduroy road has a
choice to make; he can either creep along, letting the tires dip
slowly in and out of the washboard recesses, or he can spur that
baby up to about 52 mph and let the tires skip their ways along the
tops of the high spots.
[to top of second
column]
 |
If he chooses the former, it takes forever to get somewhere and
the view never seems to change. Between the creeping speed and 52
mph is a punishing, back-and-forth and up-and-down action that will
tear a pickup to pieces.
But at 52 mph, the scenery goes by in changing beauty, the
shaking of the vehicle becomes a pleasant vibration, and there comes
to the driver almost an exhilaration of knowing he's taking a chance
on hitting an arroyo or an oil-pan-killing rock around the next
bend.
Bob's riding boot mashed down the accelerator as he watched the
needle climb to more than 50.
Now this, he thought, is living. He and Florencio gave war whoops
out the windows at almost exactly the same time.
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
Brought to you by "Ol' Slim's Views from the Porch," available
at www.unmpress.com.
|
