I love the vast ranchlands, and I love the small farms. I love to drive across absolutely flat land on ramrod-straight roads, then suddenly find myself at the base of an "Oklahoma mountain", which is basically a little lump of tree-covered land that soars a couple of hundred feet above sea level. I love the beat up little Oklahoma towns. For some reason, most of them look much the worse for wear. There are far more picturesque small towns in other states, but I do love the battered, windblown, crumbling villages of Oklahoma that are just hanging on for dear life. I love the animals -- cows, goats, occasional horses. Mostly cows. I love the sky. Today it was cloudy and gray. That's ok. Any sky will do, as long as I can see it forever.
I had to battle the car in order to get home. The car wanted to keep going and going and going. . . away from home. It's only through self-restraint that I was able to wrench the steering wheel back toward Tulsa a couple of hours later.
I got home. And now, back to my project. I'd rather be out there. Am I a roadie or what?
I know the formal definition of "bunghole", the opening in a wine cask through which the wine is extracted. But really! The Urban Dictionary begs to disagree. Is this appropriate? It makes me chuckle every time I drive past this Tulsa liquor store.