There is a road in the middle of nowhere. It’s a shame that it’s in the middle of nowhere because it’s a lovely, winding road. It’s so lovely that I have almost killed myself on it many times. Not because Im such a shitty driver, well my wife would argue that point, but I like to think it’s because the oaks along this nowhere road rival the best ancient sculpture. Oaks are a solitary tree. Usually preferring to make their home atop a small hill where they can stand out amongst the landscape much like the afore mentioned sculptures do upon pedestals in fancy museums. There is one special oak on this drive. He sits just below the precipice of his hill, and sticks out craving your attention, and one day I decided it was time to pay him a visit. It was then that I remembered half of the times I’ve almost been killed on this road is because evidently this road is also a short cut to somewhere. The wind that this truck’s speed carried almost knocked me off my feet, not to mention the insult of his horn blaring into nowhere. I quickly forgave him for the intrusion as he was evidently hell bent on getting to his shitty job faster, and I wanted to stop and say hello to a tree. I immortalized my new friend within minimalist abstraction and headed back to my car. I drove off down my road and discovered some more modern sculpture but figured I had stretched my luck far enough for one day. I would return again, risk my life with some more hillbillies with the same propensity to get from nowhere to somewhere faster, then make some new friends.