I got home about 11pm Monday night after a freelance gig. It was the start of my weekend and I got this wild bug up my ass that said that I had to leave town.
Go! Get out! Be gone!
So I grabbed a basketful of dirty clothes and hit the open road.
Nothing like an empty highway to give you a sense of freedom. Western Nebraska is chalk full with such highways so that’s the way I went.
I ended up staying with a friend of mine near my home-town of North Platte, lodged neatly at the edge of the Sandhills of Nebraska. The sandhills are a vast area of pasture-lands with tall native grass growing atop rolling sand hills. All the eye can see out there is big sky, hills and barbed wire. Little has changed from the way it looked 200 years ago.
My hiatus was cut short when I accepted an assignment for the New York Times in south-central Nebraska for today. It was pretty much on my way back and it is the New York Times, so why not?
In all honesty, I really needed a break from it all. One day was not quite enough.
