Proud Passenger

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My niece, Kendra, who graduated high school last week is riding with me for a little while this summer. I had promised to take her out on the road some time ago. This seemed like the perfect opportunity, a reward for a job well done if you will. I’m very proud of her. Not only has she surpassed the first hurdle of graduation, but she plans to join the military as a starting point for her adult life.

The first load we had, relegated me to running dusk to dawn, not my favorite any longer. Kendra was a real trooper, and hung in there with me for two nights of hard running. Unfortunately she didn’t get to see as much as I would have liked, but the night does have its own unique sights.

We are preparing now for our next load. We will be running early mornings, and on through mid day, for at least three days. We are headed west to El Monte, CA. Running the I-10 all the way. So her first daylight views of our country will be a desert landscape.

Mr. Peanut is quite happy with my new passenger. He seems to have adopted a new perch, right in the middle of her lap.

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Watch “Radney Foster – Angel Flight” on YouTube

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On this memorial day, and every other day. I hold high, the memory of all who have served and the millions still serving. My heart is filled with pride and respect for the honor of your sacrifices. For the families and friends of those who paid the ultimate price, who gave all, I hold you high on a pedestal of preeminent respect.

For those who have left a part of themselves on the field of battle, whether at home or abroad. I see your wounds, even the invisible ones. Make peace with the ghosts, both, those who wail and shriek, as well as the silent, sullen, and disconsolate. The later often the most terrorizing. They may never leave your side, yet I hope an amity can be found.

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Desolation

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City lights, bright, colorful, and so very overbearing; fade slowly in the mirrors. Moonlit landscapes unfolding before me, the gleam of my headlights adding to unnatural shadows. Trees in springtide fresh bloom, spreading their youthful branches in aberrant shades. Fence lines creating wrinkles beside the macadam. Reflections glare in staccato linear motion from the center line.

The wind howling through my open window, nearly blotting out the whine of 18 tires rolling on asphalt and an impressive growl of power from my diesel engine. The open road welcomes my lonesome wanderlust. I feel at home here, among the nights desolation.

Flashes of lightening along a far distant horizon. A stark realization that people may be losing more than I could imagine. Not many days before the savagery of nature’s power demonstrated not so far from where I am now. Souls wander now, riding the winds, whispering their lost dreams. I hear, feel, them as I shedd tears for lives, young and old, lost to a twisted fate.

Desolate solitude.

American Red Cross

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Dreams, Wheels of Thought

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Image0077Wheels of thought… rolling; constantly in motion, even when the physical reality is decidedly immobile.  My imagination is still moving, not just forward or back, but in all directions, sometimes all at once.  Ideas glimpsed, grasped at, sometimes snared and wrestled into some vague form of reality.  Of course my reality may be nothing more than a script of fiction scratched out on a single page. The difficulty comes when I try to find a home for all these dreams, thoughts, and ideas… Especially those I fail to capture immediately and completely.

One thing being a truck driver gives you, is time; Copious amounts of time for thought.  I had considered making another blog for my wild imaginings,yet another for a particular story line that continues to flow.  Ideas have flowed freely, even frequently.  Dreams of blog designs, banners, background, and even story lines.

Ah but that route is a familiar one indeed.  I have been there before, multiple blogs. Each originally created for a specific line of thinking or subject mater.  Work is what becomes of my entertainment at that instance. Continually feeling pressed, by myself assuredly, to keep up with each.  The act itself stealing the pleasure I find in writing.

The obvious answer to my dilemma, sits before me as I write, and before my readers as they consume my irrationality.  I have a blog already constructed, albeit basic in design and scope.  Why not expand, perhaps even improve a little, on that which already exists.  I will be working on Wandering Gypsy Spirit over the next few weeks, changing, molding it into something a little different.  The scope will become, certainly more open, allowing a wider range of topic, including a spattering of fiction every once in a while.

Expect to see some Changes here and there.  I’ll be updating the about page, and perhaps even adding a little personality to the physical design.  I was very good with Blogger, but WordPress is just a little more technical and maybe too costly to do some of the changes I would like. I know the more I play with it, the more confidant I’ll become, and with that; adventurous.

In the mean time, expect to see a more frequent posting schedule.  The topics will be wide ranging and varied.  Know one thing, I do not blog for profit.  I will not be adding advertisements or those screwy keywords that take you magically to some online gambling site.

Myths are public dreams, dreams are private myths!
                            Joseph Campbell

All In a Straight Circle

Just this morning I realized that today was the anniversary of the first American Terrorist attack. The Oklahoma City Bombing, perpetrated by a group of American Citizens with some pretty screwed up beliefs.

Here we are, 18 years later, reeling from the latest attack on our sense of security and freedoms. This latest alleged to have been committed by another person who went through the trouble to become a naturalized citizen, and his brother.

I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around these two particularly savage, yet cowardly deeds. I say cowardly because the targets were normal everyday people. Children even. What could possibly be so crossed up in the thinking of these people. Where did the wires get shorted out.

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Beauty Comes in Many Forms

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Nature’s beauty can be difficult at times to see. One of the advantages of my chosen career is the chance to see so much of this amazing country.

Today while I was driving through the Mojave Desert, I chanced a glance out the passenger window. Stunned by the unique vistage, my mind began to wander. A clouded sky, casting shadows amount the ragged mountain ranges and barren desert topography. The contradiction was stark and so very intriguing.

I am still struggling to describe the thoughts bouncing around my subconscious.

The Road Beckons, Distant, Whispered, Avaricious

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Silently demanding, whispered desires, melodiously carried on the breeze. The solitude, so valued, seemingly exotic and intoxicating, is just over the horizon.

My days as a trainer are nearing an inevitable conclusion. I have resigned my status as mentor, in favor of a peaceful isolation. My last apprentice will be getting off the truck tomorrow to continue his journey with another.

After running solo just over a month, I had taken on another student. Reality though, has reared up to present obstacles of a unique manufacture. After the previous three students, each a provocation in their own challenges to me. Three times, separate and individual, my life has passed before my eyes. Three distinct ”roll over risks” have rendered me ineffective as a trainer.

I now find it impossible to sleep anytime a student, or anyone else for that matter, is driving. This presents a serious issue when my own drive shift comes around. Since this also negates the financial incentives to training, I decided that I shall operate solo from here on out. I cannot afford to pay a student and run more like a solo, stopping each night for sleep.

I know this means a tightening of the belt, and perhaps a few hungry days or nights. Yet my personal sense of self preservation is rejoicing with untempered satisfaction. I would rather be slightly starved from time to time, and remain in one piece, rather than suffering the obvious potential injuries.

The Road is Life

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The road is my home. Long stretches of swarthy oiled macadam, unfolding to the horizons. My boundaries change daily, even hourly. This is one of the many reasons I love my job. The challenge of being in a new location day by day, is also one of the grandest of rewards.

Whether the horizon is that of the praries, deserts, mountains, or oceans… is of no real distinction. Each one has an allurement unique unto itself. Being privileged to view, touch upon, perhaps even owe alliegence to unmistakable beauty. This is my constancy, my communion, my temerity. The open road leading towards an uncertain future just over the next visage.

I take strength in the unhurried yet deliberate rising of a morning sun. The obscurity of a moonless night giving way to the dawning brilliance of yet another new day. A tenebrous sky evolving ever so slowly through all the shades of grey to startling azure, set ablaze with a kaleidoscope of golden saffron, orange, and firey magenta. A promise of nothing more than a simple continuation of existence.

Choice… free will… takes care of the rest. Perspectives change with the purview.

What I See Out My Window

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A few weeks back, WordPress’s Daily Prompt was a simple question. ”Find the nearest window. Look outside. What is the most interesting thing you see? What is the least interesting thing? If you don’t have a window, close your eyes and imagine one: what do you see when you look through it? ” Sounds simple enough right, or perhaps not… Either way, a very  intriguing query.

When I first read the post, I happened to be standing in front of a large window, looking out over a snow covered field, surrounded by a stand of skeletonized trees. My first impulse was to sit down a write an article describing, in painful detail, exactly what I saw out that window. The crystalline perfection and purity of a fresh white blanket of snow, obscuring all… including any possible imperfections. Dormant trees, in their skeletal simplicity, guardians of sort. Sunlight, glaringly bright, reflecting off the icy surface. I still have that draft saved on my phone.

Today however, as I was driving into the sunset I was struck with an epiphany. What I see out My Window is an open road, leading to a startlingly beautiful sunset. A paved roadway, certainly a prepared path of sorts, yet one that has intersections, branches and possibly even some detours. A path requiring decisions… Choices of fate even. Something that provides me a sense of comfort, somehow soothing in itself. A promise of an ending, leading to a new beginning.

For every sunset, the dawning of the next holds a new and promising sunrise.

A Harbinger

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The white owl, astute and contemplative, in the ways of the world… Native American culture relates him or her, to be a spirit guide who appears when some change is needed in one’s life. I have my own vision of the Grand White Owl. His intuitive perception has been guiding me now for a few months. All people initiate change in their own life to alter, or perhaps correct a portion of their existence that has been unsettling or unbalanced for some time. Change is not entered into without serious contemplation. For myself, it has been building for a few years. The future can never be known or at least should not ever be known. I do know that with the support of those truly close to me, my own future will be far more appealing to me. Change is never easy, and can quite often be painful, or cause deep torment. It was never my intention to hurt anyone, yet this particular form of change leaves no opportunity to avoid it. It is now time for me to move forward with my life. Building on my dreams that some have never been able to see or even grasp. Surrounding myself with the support of those who do see and even encourage my dreams. I know this post may be a little vague, but enlightenment will come at a more appropriate time, not too far into the future. Bear with me, and I will loosen my tongue. For the time being, I hope to begin posting more regularly now.

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