Room to Breathe

In the summer after they graduated from high school, me Pops and his cousin Jim took a celebratory trip out west. They borrowed a station wagon from me Grandpa Joe and off they went.

The trip took about three weeks and they simply explored. I believe they had a basic plan of where to go and what to see but didn't mind it too closely.

Pops said that one day they found themselves out in west Texas, far away from everything. At a lonely intersection there was a gas station with a small general store at one corner. From the store, you might have been able to spot one or two buildings far in the distance, ranch houses perhaps, out near the horizon. Seeing as the gas station appeared to be the only place for provisions for miles, the cousins figured it a good idea to gas up and grab a few snacks and supplies. 

The guys running the store, Dad said they appeared to be an elderly father and a middle aged son, were quite friendly and likable. They readily engaged me Pops and Jim in conversation. At one point the older gentleman remarked, "It used to be a man had room to move around out here. Now it's getting so crowded you can't hardly breathe."

Dad thought about how they were at a desolate intersection deep in western Texas, and that all he could  see other than the gas station were the two buildings miles off in the distance. The elderly man actually pointed towards them and continued sadly, "They're building right on top of us these days."

Pops let it go. They were after all just passing through, and why interrupt the reverie? If the locals felt put upon, well, what could you say anyway?