Have you ever been struck by a tumbleweed? It’s a little unsettling.

On my journey to Utah, there is a long stretch of the way that takes you through rural Kansas. There isn’t a lot of pretty scenery in rural Kansas. Some cows, lots of fields, and occasionally a tumbleweed.

That normally would amuse me as I associate tumbleweeds with old ghost towns in the very generic sense. Deserted town, dirt roads, old saloon with an empty water trough out front for the horses that haven’t been there in years. And tumbleweeds.

So when I saw the first one make its way across the highway, I laughed because it reminded me of just how lonely this stretch of road was turning out to be.

When the second one made itself known, I was slightly less amused but still didn’t feel anxiety about it.

But the third damn tumbleweed that came out of nowhere actually hit my car. By this point, I wasn’t amused at all. That’s when I noticed the mass of tumbleweeds caught in the fence by the side of the road.

It was like a tumbleweed convention. My mind instantly imagines them all wearing little name tags and networking.

As it turns out, it was a very windy day. Winds were around 40-50 mph and that third tumbleweed was not to be the last that would either cross my path or hit my car.