I woke up in the Lubbock Cracker Barrel lot to a howling wind. The morning air was brown when I took Dolly out. She made short work of her morning business and made it clear she wanted to get back to the van. I set out for San Angelo wondering how a canvas covered pioneer wagon could survive a dust storm like this.

The wind was landing body blows to this box of vehicle and the lights barely penetrated the filthy air. A canvas covered wagon would be bowled over with the family and its worldly possessions blown across the prairie. Did they take down the canvas and batten down the hatches? With the kiddies tied in the bed of the wagon? A pioneer mystery.

With the windows rolled up at least I didn’t need a wet bandana to breathe and the rest of the world outside seemed to be going about its business. I passed a farm tractor plowing a field. Was it being operated by a human in another climate controlled capsule or was it driven by GPS? There was a swirling plume of dust being raised behind it. The local field crop seemed to be cotton, but this farmer’s topsoil was headed for Mexico or wherever the wind decided to let it rest.

Tumbleweeds were amassing into short trains the size of full grown hogs and barreling across the road like they were running for their lives. I did my best to dodge them. The roadside wire fences were collection points and became weedy walls.

The wind farms were reaping a bumper crop. We got stopped as three giant blades were crossing the road. They wanted to get that machine up and running while there was wind to harvest. Half the road work signs were laying flat and the flagman’s stop sign was ripped from his hands.  It went cartwheeling across the highway, through a ditch, and was finally stopped in the tumbleweed fence.

People were trying to work in this. I even saw two ranch hands on horseback. They must have had their hats riveted to their skulls. What in the world for? The cowboy ethic. Get’r done. I worked with some Texas sailors and they relished that gritty spirit. Good workers and good friends. When they had a job to do they kept at it until they got’r done. Not a bunch of Massachusetts sea lawyers. 

There were more than people working. The oil wells were pumping up the goo as they have been since the 1940s.

The Permian Basin oil deposit has been producing since the 30s and now they’re drilling shale wells alongside the traditional wells. They were sucking the west Texas crude out of the ground as fast as they could.  And why not?  Gas prices had gone up 10 cents a day for the last week and 20 cents yesterday. Four ships had been attacked near the Straits of Hormuz. I hope none of my old shipmates were anywhere near. It’s hard to imagine that any one person could make such a complete hash of the world’s economy . Well, not just the economy. But Trump’s got’r done. To be fair, he’s had help.

  The only clear station I could get on the radio was a Christian station. Not my usual fare, but I turned it up so I could hear it over the wind. They’ve gone all Old Testament. This is a call to the crusaders.  Trumpets, battle hymns, and God is on our side. Former virtues like “love thy neighbor”, ”the meek shall inherit”, “turn the other cheek”, forgiveness — it’s all being ridiculed as “woke” Christianity. They’re calling for the end of days. I guess they’ve at least read one book of the New Testament — Revelations.

  Don the Revelator.

  “For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.“ Hosea 8.7.