Backroads

There’s 17 miles between my home and the neighboring town of McMinnville, Oregon. The driving distance seems longer on account of the way in which I travel there. Which is mostly dirt backroads through farmland where I can take in a beautiful day such as today.

So there I am tooling along, having my therapeutic drive to town when I am affronted, my lovely world brought to an immediate halt.

I’m aghast. mumble mumble frickin’ mumble. Does this disturb you too?


I want to say something, I just don’t know what. But I have a jumbo sharpie. And somebody dumped a big white canvas. Any suggestions?

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