gunslinger

So I admit that it was frustrating for the main streets both east and west of the house to be under construction at the same time. It's hard to make a turn north onto Grand when you're not at a stop light, especially because coming off the side streets the trees really block the view. Sometimes I just stepped on the pedal and said a prayer as I pulled out onto Grand: "Please God, don't let me die by getting rammed into by an old lady in a station wagon who is fumbling in her purse as she's driving down the road and not paying attention to me trying to get out into the street. Please God, don't let me get crushed by some sorority girl driving her boyfriend's truck with the six-inch lift kit who's talking on the phone and not paying attention to the road ahead. Please God, don't let me get hit by a garbage man driving down Grand." That was my prayer, or something like it.

But, on the other hand, while 9th St. was blocked off I had the chance to walk right down the middle of the street with no danger of getting run over by an old lady, or a sorority girl, or garbage man, and for some reason it's a pretty cool feeling. In truth, riding my bike down the freshly paved street made me feel one of two things:
*Apocolypse! A completely empty street is sort of eerie, especially when there's not even anybody out front of their house having a smoke or moving the sprinkler or anything.
* I'm your huckleberry. A completely empty street also makes me think of a showdown. At any moment I expected Sam Elliot to walk out from next to the bungalow on Custer and pull back his coat to reveal the shiny six-shooter. Especially because of the breezy fall days we've been having lately--just breezy enough that I could almost imagine a bit of dust blowing up into the burning sunset.