Chasing After Wind

Cyndy  and I drove to Weatherford to pick up a friend and take her to New Hope Equine Assisted Therapy in Argyle on Thursday. We have been to the Fort Worth area and beyond countless times over the years, sometimes in the rain. But Thursday there was more rain than we had previously seen in our forays in that direction. There were signs we hadn’t seen before with a term we hadn’t seen before.

“Excessive water on roadway.” Yep, we’ve seen that one – not on Thursday.

“Standing water on roadway.” Yep that one too – not on Thursday.

But “Possible ponding on roadway” we hadn’t heard. Are you freaking kidding me? (I didn’t get a picture of the sign due to darkness and the aforementioned rain and I was driving half the time). So the wording is paraphrased. But it turns out that ponding is actually the present participle of pond. Which doesn’t mean it’s not still stupid. In this viral day and age, there are many useless words that don’t really say a damn thing other than what the social media community has proclaimed it to mean. With no foundation whatsoever. It just sounds cool – or whatever term they’re using for that these days.

Which leads me to wonder – why does the present participle sound very much like a verb (just saying, don’t call me out on the technicalities).

So if you hit a pond on the road, do you hydropond instead of hydroplaning? How much water constitutes a pond? Following that thought, how would you recognize a pond as opposed to what we’ve always called standing water? The last time I saw enough water on the road to constitute what I would consider a pond, we called it flooding.

And the final question to the powers that be in the Fort Worth area: why did you wait to use the term until now? A lot of people won’t have a clue what that means. Or the capacity to figure it out going 75 miles an hour down the highway.

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Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

On a Thursday morning, I took a bag out to the van to start loading the last few things before I headed to Colorado for my last two week tour of the year via Amarillo. The driver’s window was all the way down. I checked to make sure everything was still in the van from the night before. When I started the van and tried to roll the window up, there were things grinding at the bottom of the door. The glass was still at the top of the door as normal, so I was hoping the glass was intact. I called our son, Cameron, who works at O’Reilly, and asked him who I called to fix that.

He said, “It’s the regulator – it’s fried. I’ll be over in half an hour. It’s under warranty and we’re not paying twice.”

Cameron did, indeed, get there between half an hour and an hour. We got the regulator off and he went to O’Reilly for a replacement. About two hours later we had the window fixed and Cameron checked all the windows and sliding doors just to make sure they worked. He stayed and talked while we cooled off inside. By the time he left it was hours later than I wanted to leave. And I still had to finish loading the van. 

I made it to Amarillo  about 6:30 or 7. Fortunately, I had food and beer with me. After a restful night, I headed to Woodland Park and arrived without further incident. I was there for a week and a half. I played a few shows and a couple of open mics. Except for having to occasionally air up the very slow leaking right front tire, there were no more incidents. 

I left to return to Amarillo on Labor Day. I got down the mountain and through Colorado Springs. I was driving on 25 through Fountain when the tire pressure light came on and the air was escaping the right rear tire. I pulled over, pulled out my Ryobi inflator, and aired up the tire. I was trying to get to Pueblo to Discount Tire (you see it coming, don’t you). 

I drove about three miles before the tire was about to go flat. In the middle of filling up the tire, I had to change to the second of my three batteries. I repeated the scenario. After I had used the third battery, I found myself on the shoulder of the exit for Pikes Peak Raceway. I called AAA and learned it would be over an hour for someone to get there.

Like the trip from Farmers Branch to Amarillo, I was once again glad I decided to wait and take a shower at the hotel. I had plenty of gas so I had air conditioning. But I couldn’t read or concentrate on anything but not thinking about the time. When I was thinking it was about the time they had estimated, my phone rang and the driver said it would take him about twenty minutes to get to me.

While I was talking to him a State Patrol officer appeared at my door. He asked me if I could take the exit. I couldn’t see anywhere to pull off. He said if I would take the exit and turn right I would see the spot he was talking about. I did so and pulled off on dirt and grass area just before the entrance to the Raceway.

I had just parked when the officer appeared at the door again. I jumped and rolled the window down. He said that was much better and if I had any more problems I could call them as he handed me a card. Not much later, the tow truck arrived. I asked if he could just tow me into Pueblo to Discount Tire. Of course he said they were closed. 

He put the donut on, I thanked him, and headed for Pueblo at fifty miles an hour. I found a Walmart not far off the highway. After another hour of waiting, I had a new tire.

I arrived at the Econo Lodge Amarillo East (formerly Sleep Inn Airport) about 9:30.  I had called them while I was waiting for the tow truck to tell them I’d be late. They have inexpensive rates, decent rooms, and a very friendly staff. 

The next morning I left later than I ordinarily would, but there were no further incidents other than idiot drivers. I was glad to be home.

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Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

I’ve always talked to myself while I’m driving. When I’m on tour, the road gets very long and lonely. I’m the only conversation I get except for gas stations and rest areas and very little there other than “Hi,” “Just fine, thank you,” and “I don’t need a bag, thanks though.”

Everyone talks to themselves at one time or another. Some more than others. There are people who talk to themselves at stop lights animatedly as if emphatically talking to someone else – no cell phone, ear buds, etc. in sight. I’m not one of those people. 

I continually talk to other drivers on the road. Although, since they can’t hear me, I’m actually just talking to myself. And there are times when it’s just as well that they can’t hear me. They wouldn’t like what they heard.

The older I get, the more I talk to myself. Which I don’t guess is a bad thing in and of itself. I emphatically state out loud how I feel about a song, an artist, a piece of news or whatever. Which is just me letting off some steam in a lot of cases, one way or the other. 

But what is beginning to concern me is a new situation. I was driving along, talking out loud as usual. I let out a comment as a reaction to something that I saw in traffic or heard on the radio. It was a stream of conscience type of thing so I mistakenly said something different than I intended. 

And I corrected myself! That was a new one. I’m talking to myself. No one else is listening. And I correct myself – in my own head! 

I could have just left it alone, since I knew what I meant. But, no, I wasn’t going to let myself get away with that. I had to justify myself – to my freaking self! 

So there’s that. But the scariest thing of all? I’m not the only one.

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

Paypal.me/danroark 

I was driving up to Colorado the first of last week. Coming through the Raton pass, there is an unlikely RV park on the right side of the highway when you’re headed north. It has been impossible for me over the years to figure out how you get to the damn place. They re-did the road there at the weigh station a few years ago, making it even worse to be able to tell how to get to the RV park. I thought about it again, coming through.

I stopped in Trinidad at a little shop to see some people I know, as I usually do. A little while later, I left, drove back up the block, and took the entrance to 25, and was off. It wasn’t too long before it occurred to me that I was going back the way I came. I was pretty pissed at myself. I just hoped I could find some place to turnaround before I had to drive all the way back to Raton.

So I’m getting nervous thinking time is passing faster than it is. There are exits but no entrances on the other side. I’m trying not to berate myself, but I feel sort of stupid.

I come around by the weigh station and I see an exit with an entrance on the other side. Praising my good fortune and beginning to feel better about the whole incident, I took the exit. I get to the top, turn left, get to the other side, and head into an intense turn back toward the highway. Coming around that turn, I  pass a road on my right. I see that that road leads to the RV park.

Success! I finally know how to get to the RV park. I would not want to take a trailer to that park, but I know how to get to it. Keep in mind that I had never bothered looking for the exit coming south. That’s the only way you can get to it – from the north headed south.

Good can come from doing a stupid thing. Just not all the time.

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Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

Wrong entrance from Trinidad.