Independent

We fired up the pickup, threw her into 4WD, and bounced out the lane to the hard road. We wheeled into the local gas station and were happy the brakes worked. We don't use the pickup much, but when we do, we thank God we're a country boy. We filled her up with regular, and felt so red-state we bought a flagon of Diet Pepsi and a big bag of chips.

The local paper in the rack says they've opened up the primary elections in California. They can vote for anybody now, and the top two run against each other in the general. We like the idea because it's a change. We like change, unless it's change we don't like.

We rattle home raising a dust cloud, back the pickup into the stable, and shut her down. It smells a little ripe in the cab, and we really should drop the blower from under the dash and clean out the mouse nest. But maybe later. Just now we feel like going into the house and writing a long, rambling letter to the local editor. First we have to decide what we're mad about.

We'll think of something.

copyright 2010, J. O'Brien, all rights reserved