… decided to quit early. I’m on the far west end of Wyoming, in Evanston, and have been on the road for 12 hours (in spite of a 40-mile goof — more about which in a moment). Moreover, I’ve driven slightly more than three-quarters of my cross-country miles in three days, which means I should actually, factually, barring unforeseen incidents, be in Portland tomorrow night.
… crossed the Continental Divide (which, as Dad pointed out, unfortunately doesn’t make the rest of the trip “down hill”!)
… gained another time zone.
… talked (whilst paused for lunch) to Janet’s realtor friend — he’s going to start looking at house possibilities, and I’ve got an appointment to see him on Monday.
… did some thinking about side trips and stops — and the lack of them — in spite of the fact that I’ve waved as I’ve passed by folks and their quilt store suggestions.
When I drove across the country moving east, I stopped at museums, monuments, national parks, and occasional oddities that struck my fancy. I haven’t made ANY side trips this time, and have only vaguely been tempted by the Danish Museum in Iowa, and the original Pony Express Station in Nebraska, or Fort Bridger in Wyoming. Any/all of those — never mind swap buddies! — would have caused me to stop and spend half a day, last trip.
There are two differences this time, I think. One is winter, the other is weather and, while they’re related, they’re not the same difference. Lots of monuments/museums/parks are just plain closed in the winter and I’m just not willing to wait around for something to open for winter-limited hours. And the weather has been amazing. I’ve been blessed with outstanding travel weather and I don’t want to jeopardize my zooming window. So far, storms have been in front of me, behind me, south of me… but not where I am. I’ve had a few snow flurries, but for the most part I’ve had dry roads and clear sailing.
Oh, the 40-mile goof? I stopped in Ogallala, NE for gas this morning. About 12 miles later, I noticed that my wallet was still on the passenger seat, which meant that I hadn’t put my debit card back. (I’m a creature of habit, which is why it’s rare that I lose things. Wallet out of handbag? Debit card hasn’t gone back into wallet.) I check my pocket (debit card goes in parka’s chest pocket when removed from the pay-at-pump thingie) and don’t find the card. Check other pockets and floorboards… no card. I decided to go back to the gas station. (Of course, it was another eight miles before I could turn around!)No one had turned a card in. I decided to look around near the pump I’d used… and there it was, magnetic strip up, on the ground behind the tire of the truck currently at the pump. When I went back inside to show that I’d found the card, the guy who’d almost driven over my card said, “Clean living!” to which the woman behind the counter added, “Miracles still happen!”
So I re-drove the 20 miles I’d just un-driven, and got back on the westward trail. I’m in the big, western states now — it’s a bit intimidating to see 400 miles to a state’s border instead of a polite, eastern 150 miles!
Tomorrow I have to pay attention. I haven’t deviated from I-80 since its beginning but, in 33 miles, I turn north on I-84 which will eventually land me in Portland. (Oh, man! I just noticed that I’ll go through Pendleton. There’s a tempting stop!)
In the mean time, I’m going to go get some dinner!
All best,
Jen (still channeling Willie Nelson)
(actual date 22 feb 08)
