Not talking about the weather

In light of my possible decision to post all weather-related messages elsewhere, I am going to try to not mention the weather at all in this post. Except that I already did twice. Dang it! What does it mean that I only have comments related to weather? Is it that interesting? That forever worthy of my constant attention? That dominant in my life? Apparently.

Insert sound of crickets chirping here.

I’ve been thinking about my first trip across these great United States. The speeding ticket/pseudo drug bust in South Dakota was really the best story and I’ve already told it. I do recall passing through Timothy McVeigh’s hometown the day of his execution. We (J and I) bought a paper. It was big news. From there we headed west and the highlights were really the Corn Maize and Wall Drug. At that time we were both still naïve enough to think these may in fact be interesting sights to see along our drive. They weren’t. Though, I do give kudos to Wall Drug for their commitment to advertising and anticipation.

The traditional tourist spot we stopped at was Mt. Rushmore. I found the faces carved in the mountain much smaller in person than I expected, or I suppose they appeared much smaller than I expected. Fine, maybe I thought we would get a lot closer than we did. I wanted to be nose-to-nose. We drove through Wyoming where the interstate is red, like millions of bricks have been crushed, smoothed, and laid to rest. Wyoming is pretty and everything you would expect: hills, grass, hay, fences, farms, cowboys, and a lot of wide open spaces. Ok, I’m not sure I actually saw a cowboy but it wouldn’t have surprised me to see one just riding on by. Classic country western music played in my brain the whole time I was in the state.

From there we drove across the oversized, under populated state of Montana for what felt like 100 years. It’s big. The sight of the mountains kept us going as did the knowledge of being on the verge of saying, and meaning, “We are almost there!” Our last night was spent in the Idaho panhandle, near the “French place” I now know how to pronounce, Coeur d’Alene (core-da-lane.) Finally, we made a brief stop on I-90 to take in the beauty of central Washington and the Columbia River. And while I’m sure J wanted to throw me off the viewpoint into the river below after traveling together for such a long time, we simply took in the view, took a deep breath, and finished the final two hours of our journey.

The End.

PS: Ack, it’s going to be 90 degrees today! Whew, sorry, I held out as long as I could.