You get used to driving fast in West Texas. There’s no reason not to.
So, when I went through Marathon on my way to Marfa, yes I thought I was going slow. But compared to 90, 60 feels slow.
When the sheriff pulled me over, right in front of the Gage Hotel, looked at my license for a minute, gave me a very polite lecture on speed limits, then asked me what I did for a living, I said, “Oh, I’m a songwriter.”
“You write anything good?”
At that, I reached into the backseat and pulled out a copy of ‘Marathon,’ and handed it to him, saying, “Well, there’s that.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Really?”
“Yeah, kind of crazy, but I wrote it about this part of the world.”
“Well son, I’m gonna listen to this on the way home, and if it ain’t any good, I’m giving you a ticket next time. OK?”
“Absolutely.”
“Have a great day, and drive safe.”
“Thanks.”
Who says music doesn’t pay…
And, yes, I hauled ass to Marfa.