Many have seen him on the road, but few know his true story.
Some say he was abandoned by the side of the highway as a young thing. He grew large and greasy eating road kill and French fries that fools threw out the car window.
Some say he was part of a family group crossing the roadway. The others were killed by semi-trucks and wild merchant wagons. The remaining beast, not understanding, keeps searching for its lost kin.
Some say he is simple and so amused by traffic that he stays, watching the wheels go round and round, watching the travelers jeer and honk.
Some say he was just too cheap to take the bus.
What is the dumatef fascination with roads and bridges? Wherefore came this honorary ďguardĒ status? I have wondered for years.
Recently I was on a long journey on a major highway. My children and I were on a biannual trip to visit relatives, which weíve twisted into a vacation of sorts. Visiting relatives...