Bad Democrat

I rode my bike across the country in high school one summer, and I remember Georgia a lot. The places we rode through couldn’t be found on a map, even though they were towns and small cities, and they were really the South the way someone there would see it. I remember a giant concave lawn with a road circling around it leading up to a visitor center or whatever, and I remember a rickety shack where someone lived where we waited out a thunder storm and then spent the night. I know how high and low the hills got on the back roads–state roads–and those took you to the town you were trying to reach. They were roads that were the right color gray, and felt like good roads, and there were a lot of American flags and checkpoints that were like, ‘we’re in America’. And I remember how when it was white out, and the sky meets the road but it’s warm, and how the humidity makes your hair curl up.

I’m now thinking about how a lot of Americans are good, back there, in their zone or wherever, and not going anywhere. There are a lot of Americans out there who are back there doing good who state and national government people aren’t thinking of when they think of speaking to America.