Though my trip is not far down the road, I am taken to a different time
where I am being cowed by road-hogs.
The one with the most hat always figures it out first.
Dressed up, and down the road we stroll.
Straight ahead, one furrow at a time.
Look around fellows, I am not your worst problem.
And out of the wagon grew a big silo! And the horses pulled and pulled but they could not pull the silo.
A hayride in the literal sense of the word.
Stuffing their igloo lunch box between them, they thought about ice-cream, Jell-O, and how weird everyone was.
When I started taking their picture, they remembered who they were . . . and turned away.