We returned from London on the 14th, spent a week in Portland and now we're back in Nevada for a couple of days. Sunday we leave for Florida. As usual, we're driving. And, as usual, M. Lee has already booked the motels and loaded the GPS with the addresses of the restaurants where we'll have dinner each night. You don't want to hit town after 12, 13 maybe 15 hours on the road and still have to find a place to eat, especially if you're vegetarian. We're not fussy though. A salad and baked potato will do just fine. But just for today, good to be home. Home—a strange and special place.
Language itself is a barrier.
2 comments:
Planning ahead becomes much more important when there is a hundred miles between stuff. God forbid you should be compelled to stay in Goodland, Kansas, but if you do, don't stay in the Holiday Inn room with the mold formation on the ceiling that looks like a dead body from the floor above.
Just realized--you're from Nevada. What am I sayin'? Still, don't let the prairie grass and windmills give you a false sense of confidence. Also: at most intersections, the vehicle with the largest wheels has the right-of-way.
Well, being from Nevada, we know nothing of mold. In Nevada, even water can be something of a rumor. Nevada is something of a reverse beauty spa. If you want to look instantly 10 years older, drier and wrinklier come to Nevada. And don't worry about the size of your wheels. In Nevada right-of-way is determined by the quickest draw, that is unless you're a member of the Bundy Idiot Terrorist Gang. They were quick on the draw but it's a damn pleasure watching the slow, but incredibly fine, Wheel of Justice grind those shit heels down.
Post a Comment