What's in a name?

Why is this called "Just a Wagon Wheel?" Well, I recall two great conversations from high school, and one involved a wagon wheel. Our English class was dissecting a poem about a man coming upon a derelict wagon wheel sticking out of deep snow. I don't remember the title or who it was by (let me know if you know). Our teacher -- Mr. Ratterman -- was leading the class through a discussion about what this wagon wheel symbolized. The manure was getting pretty deep -- in the classroom, not the poem -- and so, I raised my hand. Mr. Ratterman, eager to drink in the incisive poetry analysis of another bright, shiny mind, called on me.

Mr. R: Yes, Pat?
Me: Uh, couldn't it just be a wagon wheel?
Mr. R: No.

Alright then. So all the preposterously heavy suggestions that my classmates had were acceptable. Mine? Not so much. So when pressed for a profoundly clever name for this fame-making blog, you got "Just A Wagon Wheel."

Begin your analysis.

(I see Mr. Ratterman riding his bike around town. We've bumped into each other at the bank, the grocery store. We pretend not to know each other.)
- - -

And I know you're wondering so....

The other conversation regarded Nuclear Arms Proliferation. Yep. We had been presented with several schools of thought on responses to the proliferation of nuclear arms. This was the 80s. Our teacher told us to break into groups and choose a response to the issue. Not interested in moving, and having not paid much attention to the prior discussion, another student -- Phil -- and I simply sat where we were. The teacher went around the room, asking each group which response they'd selected. Then he got to Phil and me.

Teacher: And your choice?
Me: Nihilist.
Teacher: Excuse me?
Me: Nihilist.
Phil: Yeah, we've made no choice. We don't care.
Teacher: You can't do that.

So, Phil and I likely scooted our desks to whichever group was closest. I'm not sure what our adopted response to Nuclear Arms Proliferation was. "Against," I think.