There was a wreck last night on I-84, just outside Nampa, ID.
It was one of those bad ones where you can see flashing lights up ahead, and plenty of them. Traffic slowed, moved to a single lane, then stop and go as we approach the scene, which was mainly in the median and the westbound lanes.
There were a couple of cars spun around, a couple of semis in the median, one jack-knifed pretty badly, lots of people scurrying around, and spectators standing around, I’ll presume ready to help if asked.
But then I see the wreckage. The real wreckage. Wreckage so bad that you know people somewhere are getting a phone call tonight that will change their lives the second they pick up the receiver. Mothers’, fathers’, daughters’, sons’, friends’, family members’, and coworkers’ hearts are going to drop seconds after that “Hello?”
I’ve seen these before and they always bring me back to the moment. My moment. I have to be in THIS moment, because it’s the only one I know, for a fact, I will have.
So today I head south, windows open, probably a cigar along the way, watching a world I’ve never seen go by, and I’ll be grateful for every moment I get along the way.
As I continue along on Kooky's Road Trip, I’ll keep last night in my thoughts, and be reminded that others aren’t always so lucky.
I'm just a guy who finds the world an interesting place and likes to capture certain moments with a camera. They aren't for sale, or anything. I just like them. Well, usually. I've taken a lot of photos I don't like, as well.
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The first time I heard Navajo spoken as a natural course of conversation was in Holbrook, Arizona. I was in an art gallery that sold various Indian art. The owner, Nakai, spoke to one of the locals, who dropped by, in his native tongue. He sold me a ring in English.
As I was cruising through rural Missouri, from Appleton City to Golden City, with Cooky's Cafe on my mind, I saw a building off the road and wanted a photo. I liked the way the shadows were hitting the porch and loved it's pristine condition.
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