It’s Good to Achieve Something… Anything

My new goal is to see in how many different states I can get pulled over for different things without actually being fined. Why is this a goal, you ask? Simple, because goals should be attainable and I’m already on a roll. Here’s the tally so far:

• Wyoming: Broken headlight
• South Dakota: Speeding
• South Dakota: Driving too close to the car in front of me
• South Dakota: Object hanging from rear view mirror
• North Dakota: Broken headlight

What is it, the long hair? The Oregon plates? The back seat filled to the brim with everything I own? The deer shrapnel hanging out of what used to be my headlight? Whatever the case, I feel I’m a magnet for highway patrolmen and small town cops. And they all ask me about five times if I have any marijuana in the car. Do people actually say yes to that? At least no tickets yet (knock on wood). Plus, I now have no shortage of fire starter with all these written warnings.

Nebraska will be next. Keep your fingers crossed that I get a nifty written alert for dragging a muffler four feet behind the car.

Yeah, the Infiniti could use a little work right now.

Fat Man Karma

Since karma was already on my mind, I think I paid my dues for making fun of that mean fat man in my last blog entry. The evening after my encounter with him, I drove across a very foggy Wyoming mountain and hit a deer. There were deer everywhere on that road, and I was actually driving about fifteen miles below the limit to steer clear of them. Nonetheless, a mommy deer and its fawn jumped in front of my car and were immediately entranced by my high beams. I managed to take out the small one, and it cost me a headlight and a turn signal. Before you think I’m pure evil, let me point out that I hit the brakes as early as I could and ended up skidding quite a ways before Bambi ate it. And that little brat got his vengeance by leaving all these little tufts of fur in my broken headlight glass that took me a good long time to pull out!

Exactly two hours later, a highway patrolman pulled me over for a broken headlight. Go fig.

For the record, the deer ran off into the woods.

Despite all that lost fur, it didn’t even seem fazed.

Can You Show Me the Way to Utah?

I said goodbye to the folks Thursday morning, then hit the road. I had enough time to take the scenic route, so I traveled across Oregon, Idaho and part of Wyoming the first two days. It poured almost the whole time, but the sky did clear up enough for me to get some nice pictures of the Snake River and a few sights in Idaho Falls. Both nights, I slept in the back seat of my car. I think it’s pointless to spend $50 on a motel just to sleep for a few hours. Besides, the car seat is more comfortable than it sounds. It just sucks being 6’3” and not able to stretch out.

I eat simply on road trips, too. Cold oatmeal with raisins, raw broccoli, bell peppers and a bag of filberts made up most of my diet. That may not sound appealing, but they’re actually all things I really like. And they’re healthy and easy for traveling. Remember, I did work at a natural food store for the past five years.

Wyoming was beautiful, especially as I got into the Rockies. I do my best to avoid interstate highways because they’re boring and mindnumbing. If you stick to the two-lane roads, you travel slower but see so much more. You drive through the middle of every small town along the way and meet far more interesting people. Better scenery, too. And when you need a break, you end up at kitschy diners and pubs instead of McDonalds. After a long evening drive down a muddy gravel road, I came across a tavern called the Elkhorn. The place was in the middle of nowhere—not another town or store for miles—and a big sign outside said “Welcome Hunters.” How could I not go in?

I loved the place, although I did feel like an alien there. Even in the gravel parking lot, my mud-covered Infiniti stood out quite a bit among the long line of pickups. The bar was inside a long, dark wooden room with lots of mounted animal heads and country music blasting over the radio. They served three kinds of beer (Coors, Bud and PBR), but at least a dozen kinds of whiskey. You could pay to roll dice to win a free beer. The bar was more or less busy, and I’m sure I was the only guy there who couldn’t bench press 200 pounds, or who wasn’t shitfaced. I talked to the bartender a bit and she recommended a little known canyon hike to check out when I arrived in Utah. She warned me to check the weather before I go because, as she said, “if it rains in the mountain then the canyon floods fast and you’ll die in minutes. Want another Pabst?”

I slept in the car that night at a turnout in the road somewhere in the Wyoming countryside. Usually, I look for rest areas, but they didn’t exist on that road. When I fell asleep, my vehicle was the only one around. When I woke up in the morning, three big rig trucks surrounded my car. Guess I found a hot spot for roadside naps.

I entered Colorado on day three, bright and sunny. I wasn’t very far from the Utah farm and I had two days to get there, so I decided to enjoy some camping. Looking for a good site led me to drive through Grand Mesa, which took me over a beautiful snow-covered mountain that my car had a tough time climbing. Amazing frozen lakes and rivers were plentiful. It was very tempting to camp there, and I could have done it for free, but I was in the mood for a spot where I could lounge in the warm sun instead of waking up to sub-zero temps. Camping in snowy mountains definitely has its appeal to me, but that would have to wait. In the meantime, I soaked up the scenery and took a ton of pictures.

I ended up settling for a campground at Black Canyon. I never heard of the place before, but it was getting late and I was desperate to find something nearby. I found a site, set up my tent and decided to go for a walk to see what the canyon was all about. The campground was small and not very populated, so I wasn’t expecting much. I hiked about 200 feet away from my tent before I came into a clearing and was completely shocked. This canyon was HUGE! Certainly not as big as the Grand Canyon, but no less breathtaking. You could walk right up to the rim and sit with your feet hanging over the edge, which dropped off 1700 feet straight down to the river below. And quiet—not overcrowded with tourists and screaming kids like the Grand Canyon, even on a Saturday.

The weather was warm enough to sleep outside under the stars. I enjoyed a long night of journaling and staring at my campfire. The next day, the few other campers all left and I had the whole canyon to myself. I spent the whole day hiking and sitting on the canyon edge. That’s when it first really sunk in that I’m unemployed with no home and no income. It scared me a bit until I reminded myself that it also meant no more work drama, no more staring at a computer all day, no more mundane routine. Instead, new opportunities, new experiences and new things to learn. That’s what I wanted, and still want. And that day I learned that you should check for snakes before crawling into a sleeping bag that’s been sitting outside all day.

Doubt it was poisonous.