Borrowed mileage
Some men carry miles the way others carry opinions.
You can see it before they speak. The way they sit a horse. The way they hold a rope. The way they don’t rush to explain.
The old cowboy who visits the ranch every now and then doesn’t advertise what he knows. He doesn’t need to. He’s won enough. Roped enough. Missed enough. Corrected enough.
His knowledge isn’t loud.
It’s available.
If you ask.
If you don’t, it stays with him.
Some people move forward by borrowing mileage. They ask. They listen. They take shortcuts built from someone else’s scars.
Others spend the same energy proving they already know.
One compounds.
The other protects something fragile.
Mileage doesn’t impose itself.
It waits.
