10.08.2012
Those long winter nights, snow illuminated by moonlight, the feel of the road transmitted to my hands through the wheel, I spent hours entranced by the unfolding panorama before me. River valleys, narrowing, then widening into isolated ranches and fields, wildlife and livestock scarce under winter's weight, only the nocturnal denizens alert as the quiet miles passed.
So quickly did a spectre appear against that backdrop and instantly evaporate again that I momentarily pondered whether it actually happened. Sublette County, Wyoming is home to several varieties of owls, the Great Grey Owl one of the largest with a wingspan of up to 5 feet. And man, does that fill up a windshield! Silent, fleeting, startling, the owl jolted me from my revery. I instinctively clutched the wheel, broke fragile traction for a moment before I overrode the reflex and gently guided the rig back on course.
I wondered how I missed hitting him. Surely an impact like that one would have taken out the windshield. I waited for my heart rate to return to normal.
Since I left driving behind me many years ago, I have been waiting for my life to return to normal. My favorite stretch of 2-lane remains in my memory, however, beckoning me to return on 2 wheels or four, share this secret beauty with someone worthy of life's journey. It resides behind my eyelids, the familiar sanctuary from interstate traffic, the narrow ribbon of asphalt a fragile strand between rugged peaks. And each year, I promise myself, hoping against hope that my picture hasn't faded, cracked, that it's still just as I recall it, still awaiting my return, just once more.
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