Daily Archives: August 23, 2004

Rocky Mountain Low

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21

Location: Starbucks, Los Alamos, NM
Miles: I’ll check later.

Had an episode all typed up, but it sucked. The only good thing was the title, which I kept, even though it doesn’t really match the content anymore. I had even posted it by accident before I was done with it and Amy commented. There was lots of green chile in it, which was good, but other than that it was the same wandering drivel that most blogs seem to specialize in and I find myself falling into more and more these days. I was just telling about my day rather than writing. I’ve had a couple of episodes I’m quite happy with recently, and I don’t want to put up a bunch of boring crap now to break my momentum. My other writing is not going well either. I’m more fiddling around with words than writing.

So. Interesting stories. Hum. tum-te-dum…

I think I know the problem. It’s been more than four days since I had a beer. There are a few in fridge right now, chilling out, waiting for their moment. The threshold of “cold enough” is getting warmer as I type this.

Socially, Los Alamos is the exact opposite of Pacific Beach. There is no student population to speak of here and only one bar. You’re not going to go out on the town and meet someone you don’t know. This is the kind of town you come to after you’ve met your soul mate and settled down. Really settled down. Of course if you’re one of those hiking, biking, kayaking, skiing, going-to-opera-and-not-to-bars kind of wackos, this may be about as close to heaven as you can get.

As I mentioned before there is one bar remaining in this town, and it’s a beaut. This is an affluent town, but apparently all the wealthy alcoholics get plastered in the privacy of their own homes. The Canyon Grill is a dive if ever there was one. It’s a friendly place, however. Last time I was there I ended up staying way too long talking with people who seemed vaguely familiar. (“Your old man is the one who did the magic tricks, right?”) Everyone knew everyone else and I don’t want to know how many beers were bought for me.

I’ll be in there tomorrow afternoon, carefully monitoring my alcohol intake as I write. If you’re in the neighborhood stop by. The first round’s on me.

Thanks!

Ten Thousand Miles

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10

0.0 Location: West of Grants, NM (map)
Miles: 10000.0

Nearly stopped in Gallup after filling the car up, but the cool night felt so good after the heat of the day with the top up and no air conditioning to speak of. We (the pups and I) walked around the truck stop for a little while, chatting with the security guard. Chicks really do dig the boys. I grabbed a Mountain Dew and mounted up. It was about 1:00 a.m., local time.

Out on the road traffic was getting sparse. I learned the language of the truckers, blinking lights to say “go ahead” and “thanks”. I put it to use when a truch started to pull out to pass then saw me coming. I blinked my lights and he pulled on out. After he was done and I passed him, he blinked me. I felt good, like I had passed a test and become a member of the night time road. Until this 14-hour blast across the desert I have driven almost entirely during the day. I want to see. This time I wanted to travel. Travel I did. We gobbled up more than 800 miles.

The first few hours had been, as I mentioned, hot, hot, hot. The dogs were panting and even Spike seemed uncomfortable. I began rubbing water into the fur on the backs of their necks to help keep them cool. (A thought I had: Since dogs don’t sweat much, do they lose electrolytes? I’m guessing not at the same rate as their best friends. That not withstanding, is there some canine version of Gatorade waiting to be marketed?) Finally we felt relief as the sun set and we climbed up from Needles into the Northern Arizona sky.

Now the night was blessedly cool. Windows up at last, I had been propelled for a distance listening to the Chargers crush the Cardinals. That can’t be good for Arizona, getting beaten so badly by a team as bad as San Diego. After a stop in Flagstaff for dinner I had decided to head back out onto the road and see how far I could get.

Now I was rolling, lightly caffeinated with just a hint of carbonation, watching the miles tick past. I was afraid I would get distracted and look down later to discover that I had missed the magic moment. To keep my head in the game I practiced taking pictures of the mileage gauge in the low light. When the time came, I was ready. I didn’t stop; there was no stopping then, I was a cruise missile on cruise control at 75 mph with my target locked and two canine warheads. I just shot the pic at speed and carried on. I haven’t checked, but I don’t think it came out well. I peered through the shimmering blackness for any landmark for the historic occasion. Antares was throbbing in the breast of Scorpio to my left. The Pleades (“Subaru” in Japanese) were more ahead of me.

The car, as oblivious to the significance of that mile as to all the others, rolled on.

Thanks!