Ok, I'm in OK.
I'm not gonna lie, I didn't like it here at first. It was 95 degrees when I pulled in Wednesday. "Unseasonably warm," they said on the radio. "Inhumane," I say. Terrain is flat and arid--biggest drought in 50 years, they say. Didn't hear an excuse for the flatness. The grass is not just brown, but bleached to a light tan, and crackles when you walk on it like old barn straw. The trees are no better; short, jaggedy, broken things that only grow along the now parched ditches and riverbanks. They seem dispirited, like they know they can't fight the sun and so don't even attempt to provide shade. Old branches and deadwood, which would have decomposed long ago in Pennsylvania, lie exposed on the ground underneath like bones.
Lawton itself, on Route 44 about 85 miles south of Oklahoma City, is a mismatched patchwork of pawn shops, beer dives, and fast food. Quaint midwestern town? Hardly. A lieutenant was murdered right downtown last weekend. Shot six times, they say. Haven't heard why.
I was pretty bummed about it all, but as I drove to one of the two Wallmart Supercenters this morning, my outlook began to change. I saw a pickup in the turn lane, with three or four people squeezed into the cab, and two riding in the bed. Gee, it's been a while since I've ridden in the bed of a truck, or seen someone else back there. A minute or so later I pulled up at a traffic light next to a bearded dude on an old Yamaha V-Star motorcycle. His girl was on the back, and he was lighting a cigarette. Gotta admire a man like that. I imagine it takes a considerable degree of talent to smoke while you ride. One misplaced twitch or cough, and he'd lose the thing into his helmet, or beard, or collar.
Yep, I think I'll be OK here! :-)
