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Wild

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The needle hovered between the 45 marking and the 50 marking as I looked out north of my westerly position that was constantly changing. To the north was a herd of deer moving parallel to the small convoy of friends as we traveled down a dirt road easily 70 miles from any modern asphalt covered roads. The connection was almost immediate. The need to move across the land, not necessarily fast, but fast because the world around us was as big as any eye can behold at one time and asked for swift movement. I felt the wildness of their kind and want to know it more. George Straight has a song called “Cowboys Like Us” that I have a strange connection to. It’s not that I look at myself as a cowboy or even close for that matter, but that this song speaks to an internal desire to occasionally set out to answer why there is a longing be, well for lack of a better word, wild. Not wild in a sense that you may view some PCP addicted client on the TV show Cops, but wild like you would view a little boy in the backyard fighting off the bad guys to save the world, because girls are still yet to be ...
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