I've found the motor of the world

It's located in Weatherford, Oklahoma, along Interstate 40. Gigantic, enormous windmills, visible from miles away, slowly rotating in the wind currents that are strong even at ground level and up at their height must be considerable indeed. They are eerie, disturbing in their futuristic simplicity, their stark relief against the landscape, their silent implacable solitude, each a single huge pole supporting a three-bladed fan. I couldn't tell whether the wind drove them or they drove the wind; it's easy to imagine that without them the earth wouldn't rotate and the seasons wouldn't change. Perhaps somewhere deep underground, a huge engine turned by some unimaginable power source, or maybe the heat of the earth's core, feeds some incomprehensible system of chains and gears and spins their fans, driving the earth around underneath the atmosphere, or even around the sun. They stand like sentinels from some age either long forgotten or yet to be realized, and I could have parked, stood and watched their stationary motion for hours on end.