A statue in the Dallas historic district. A big Texas moon, just risen over the long, low horizon, stared down as I sat for my ride. The moon bent its phantom head down to the great expanse. It seemed to find something interesting to watch, but what it was, and how far I’d have to ride to find it, no one can say. I’d have to imagine the answer is somewhere in the coarse, lonely song of a cow rustler, toasted over red embers, heavy with the weight of leather, stuck back in time, only a legend now. So was the scene on a Friday night, as I sat outside the grand Gaylord Texas, an opulent conference center and hotel, with rooms the size of football fields and carpets printed with cowboy boots, belt buckles, lassos, horseshoes, lone stars, wagon wheels, yellow roses, and cattle heads - a cornucopia of Texas cliches. I was there to work through the next seven days on a wireless location-based tracking project. It was a hard engagement with long days, but the evenings (when I got th
Comments