texas 1:2

Jack stood on the lowest fence rail, his head just clearing the top rail so that he could look out at the field of cows. They weren't longhorns but some of them had short horns at least. Can we ride them? he asked. No dummy, said Jill. But I said, Sure, pick one out, we'll saddle it up. We'd been toying with the idea of Mexico. All through Texas, Jack would occasionally say Enchilada in a Mexican accent. We'd slip across the border into the unwritten world, the world where the traveller's mind took over the role of road and master. But I had the suspicion that there was no way back, imagination being what it was. Who wouldn't prefer the course of their own whimsy to that of the Army Corp of Engineers and the highway commission. The Mexican infrastructure sounded like fantasia to me. A joy ride, hot and illiterate - the only Spanish words I knew were the names of restaurants in my home town. Southbound only, no way back, a relief, but these were not my kids. However, if we went, cows might be the steed of choice.

move on...