To Casper

The drive from Grand Junction to Casper was punctuated by rain storms, the clouds and I moving by each other like a big algebraic equation - if the storm leaves California at 3 a.m. and I leave Grand Junction at 11 a.m., at what time will I and my aging yet surprisingly nimble BMW have to pull off windy Hwy 13 in Hamilton, CO? The answer to that is approximately 1 p..m. at which time I sat with the fog lights on in front of the Hamilton Community Center, one of two buildings in Hamilton, the other a boarded up market peppered with For Sale signs.I spread peanut butter on a cracked wheat roll while 18 wheelers and Ford F-12million-something pickup trucks blasted by, swamping the car windows as they passed.

By the time I reached the mine stacks of Rawlins, WY, I needed gas and a potty break and pried my white knuckles off of the steering wheel.The Loaf'n'Jug pump rejected my card, and their bathroom not only had toilets that would not flush, but also stall doors that would not lock. I was not about to settle my lily white on one of those. So off I went through Rawlins, to the next Loaf'n'Jug on the other edge of town where the pumps weren't working because of a recent lightning strike ("Yeah, our power's been down so I had to re-boot everything. Try again.") My card still didn't work. But restrooms were immaculate-by Loaf'n'Jug standards, anyway. So off I went to the next outpost. Where, once again, my card was rejected. When I went to hand the attendant a $20 to pre-pay, he asked if I had been traveling a lot, and if I had, I might want to contact the card company.

Indeed, Wells Fargo's computer had noticed that my card had traveled to five states in less than ten days and had suspended its privileges. Why not? It had been zigging and zagging willy-nilly to Target, Big O, Ulta, Target, Conoco, Safeway, Target ...A smart yet inconvenient act to suspend it. Once I proved that I am who I am, and provided a loose itinerary for the next month, my card was reset and I moved on toward Casper.

The Casper La Quinta Inn is located convenient to the North Platte River Parkway trail and the ballpark where the Casper Ghosts (not making it up) play Legion ball. When I checked in, the young woman behind the desk asked me for my card for what she called incidentals.
"Incidentals?" I asked.
"Incidentals," she nodded.
"Incidentals." I stated.
"Yes, incidentals." She stared at me as though I were a not very bright child. "If you break something."
Ahhh. "Well in that case maybe you should call them accidentals."
She was not amused.

The next morning, after enjoying a run on the trail by the river, I was secreting cream cheese and ketchup packets in my purse from the complementary breakfast bar when a friend called. She was in the Phoenix airport, embarking on the first leg of a trip to Venice where she would meet a cruise ship. Istanbul, Greece, etc. - she was preparing to do it all. And then asked me where I was.
"Casper." I said.
"Casper? Casper where?"
"Wyoming." I answered. "On my way to Billings, Montana."
Silence. I could hear the smile in her voice when she replied.
"That sounds great. How's it going? Your adventure?"
I felt defensive. "Well, it's not Venice or anything."
She went on to say that it's all unfolding or something. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But it's not Venice.

Driving up I-25, I looked out at the landscape and it occurred to me that I have no real interest in being in Venice right now. Nor anywhere else besides right here. Venice can wait.

This land humbles me.