That’s why we do it – talk. It doesn’t cost anything to blabber away, unless one is calling another long distance. Can’t blabber alone, takes two people. Knowledge very well may be socially constructed. Blah, blah, blah.

Today was a travel day. Pam and I drove from Bellingham to Bremerton. There was far less Interstate traffic than on Friday – there we were then, in the thick of it. But there was considerable traffic, just not enough to slow us down.

As I looked out the truck window, I repeatedly thought – where do all these people come from? And where are they going? I’ll bet each one has a story. It would be interesting to find out.

We covered a lot of ground because there being two of us we were able to travel in the carpool lane. There were at least three times as many people in the regular lanes – solitary souls, moving slow. Above us, at intervals, were cameras that took photos or made videos of the car pool lane passengers. I asked Pam about this, and she said that most recently, a pregnant woman in the car pool lane was informed that there was just one

passenger in her vehicle. Because she was ahem, with child, she contested this, and said that there were two passengers.

This of course begs the question: at what point does life begin? If, say, as some do, that life does not begin until the unborn is born, well then, such drivers are shit out of luck. I guess the woman with child won, to which I say, good for her! Women get so few breaks. This was a victory for all of us of this gender.

Many, many people. I again, as I have often in the past few days, mulled over the prospect of moving to the Pacific Northwest. I will never, ever drive on the Interstate (I am wise enough to refrain from saying “never, ever” about all things, but this, I am certain I will never, ever do). I also don’t want to move to an area that is more heavily populated than where I am now living. So the Pacific Northwest may be out. All I’d have to do (really) is bring the image of innumerable drivers, jockeying for position, back to mind.

Pam I passed the driving time by talking the entire way about Icelandic horses and Icelandic horsey doing. And when we got back to her place, we got on the internet, and in front of the computer screen, resumed talking horses.

This got me wondering (again) about the nature of obsession. I mean, we just spent five days in one another’s company, and all we talked about was Icelandic horses. And I don’t think we are done. Tomorrow we’ll go at it again. This will, of course, prompt more talk.

One of the many things that we talked about today was the United States Icelandic Horse Congress, which is the governing body of the US Icelandic horse world. We both agreed that the powers that be aren’t doing a very good job of promoting the key attributes of this breed, the most important being its versatility. Rather, the focus is on promoting flashy show horses. This in the long run will be detrimental to the breed because the horses’ mental and physical breed characteristics will take a change for the worst. Right now, the emphasis is on breeding skinny high stepping show horses who’s one purpose in life is to make their owners money and heighten their sense of self-worth. Give me a thick legged, rugged trail savvy animal any day of the week.

And it isn’t as though there isn’t already a precedent for this. Two years ago, on our drive down to the Lower 48, we stopped at a barn for the night that was hosting a Welch pony show. There was just one larger, thicker boned horse in attendance. The rest were small, slight, and skittish. The owner of this horse said that she knew that she didn’t stand a chance of winning anything – she was doing this because she was making a statement. I said, “good for you!”

Lots and lots of important talk. In this instance, this was even more important talk, because really, the future of the breed is at stake.

102. 4/20/15: A Wing and a Prayer