This story is odd and disturbing. For it speaks of conflicting impulses that are present in human psyche. And not just regular human psyche, disturbed human psyche.
While speaking directly to the bond between mother and son that cannot be broken even when separated physically by geographical states.
I made all that up.
The whole time I was thinking of one time at Red Rocks. This was an early trek up there and I was fascinated with driving right through a drilled out rock, the winding one-lane road up to the amphitheater, the formations scattered about, the apparent travel back through time to prehistoric era right in it, the history of indians considering it sacred. Everything is sacred to them. We kids, all white kids, all male, all looking for... what is the word... it is on the tip of my tongue... trouble. That's what. Looking for trouble.
We all drove up in the same car. No doubt stank up the car on the way up.
With smelly fast food hamburgers and fries. What were you thinking? Colorado? Yeah.
A car full of teenage boys looking for trouble, climbing around on the rocks. Eventually we became very adept rock climbers. But that day we were just exploring, scoping the place out. On our way back to our car we encountered another car just arriving, also packed with teenage boys.
More boys than can fit in a car.
It's not legal. You cannot pack that many boys in a car and drive around. They kept exiting the car, exiting and exiting and exiting the car in a stream of humanity, a continuous stream of boys like a clown car except as they collected it became obvious they were all Indian boys. The weirdest damn thing. We all marveled. It was a whooooole different approach to transportation.
Were they like us looking for trouble with nothing better to do than drive up to Red Rocks and scope the place out? We were confused, amused, amazed, impressed, delighted, profoundly affected at the sight of new possibilities in car-packing. And right when we thought it was over they opened the trunk and more boys poured out into the light of day and joined the collected party, apparently unphased by the ordeal of being locked up and compacted and bounced around like that.
And right when we thought it was over they opened the trunk and more boys poured out into the light of day and joined the collected party, apparently unphased by the ordeal of being locked up and compacted and bounced around like that.
Sounds like a typical day on the US border whenever a smuggler gets pulled over and there a thousand mexicans packed into a van.
3 comments:
This story is odd and disturbing. For it speaks of conflicting impulses that are present in human psyche. And not just regular human psyche, disturbed human psyche.
While speaking directly to the bond between mother and son that cannot be broken even when separated physically by geographical states.
I made all that up.
The whole time I was thinking of one time at Red Rocks. This was an early trek up there and I was fascinated with driving right through a drilled out rock, the winding one-lane road up to the amphitheater, the formations scattered about, the apparent travel back through time to prehistoric era right in it, the history of indians considering it sacred. Everything is sacred to them. We kids, all white kids, all male, all looking for... what is the word... it is on the tip of my tongue... trouble. That's what. Looking for trouble.
We all drove up in the same car. No doubt stank up the car on the way up.
With smelly fast food hamburgers and fries. What were you thinking? Colorado? Yeah.
A car full of teenage boys looking for trouble, climbing around on the rocks. Eventually we became very adept rock climbers. But that day we were just exploring, scoping the place out. On our way back to our car we encountered another car just arriving, also packed with teenage boys.
More boys than can fit in a car.
It's not legal. You cannot pack that many boys in a car and drive around. They kept exiting the car, exiting and exiting and exiting the car in a stream of humanity, a continuous stream of boys like a clown car except as they collected it became obvious they were all Indian boys. The weirdest damn thing. We all marveled. It was a whooooole different approach to transportation.
Were they like us looking for trouble with nothing better to do than drive up to Red Rocks and scope the place out? We were confused, amused, amazed, impressed, delighted, profoundly affected at the sight of new possibilities in car-packing. And right when we thought it was over they opened the trunk and more boys poured out into the light of day and joined the collected party, apparently unphased by the ordeal of being locked up and compacted and bounced around like that.
And right when we thought it was over they opened the trunk and more boys poured out into the light of day and joined the collected party, apparently unphased by the ordeal of being locked up and compacted and bounced around like that.
Sounds like a typical day on the US border whenever a smuggler gets pulled over and there a thousand mexicans packed into a van.
It sounds like going to the drive-in movies on one-price-per-car night.
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