I guess I should finish this overblown tale before I review the last Harry Potter book, right?
Anyway ...
We crossed into Nevada -- we knew it was Nevada, because there were casinos. And we're driving, there is desert and mountains and a book on the mp3 player (Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin) and everyone's happy. Well, the cats weren't happy, but they were hecka pissed all the way across the country.
Hey, what's that black cloud? Is that smoke?
Why yes, officer, we'll pull off I-80 now.
Apparently the area surrounding the interstate was ... ON FIRE!!!! An approximately 7,000-acre wildfire, and there was no way to know when the road would be re-opened.
And we were stuck at a truck stop with everyone else. So we grabbed some sodas, and I lost two bucks in the slots (Those things are *way* more complicated than "pull the lever, look for cherries.")
While I was losing quarters, John was studying the map. And he found another road, U.S. 50, that was out of the fire area and ended in the same place I-80 would have put us -- Reno. A local said it would take three to three-and-a-half hours to drive. No problem! It was mid-afternoon, and we'd be in Reno in time for dinner.
Yeah, I don't know how *they* drive, but ...
A few interesting things to know about U.S. 50. The Nevada stretch has been called "The Loneliest Road in America." AAA advises not driving it unless you have survival skills!
But did we know that? Nah!
And we're driving, and we're driving, and there's *nothing.* No towns, no stops, no people. A few bunny rabbits. Horror movies start like this.
And for miles and miles and miles, this is all we see:
And it's OK, because we've got our snacks and our mp3 player and we'll be in Reno in a little while.
But then it starts to get dark. And we're not in Reno.
And in the fading light, we start to see stuff like this:
Now we're going up and down mountains on tight hairpin turns. And it's pitch black. John could only drive 25 mph or so, and that was on the easier stretches.
And ... it ... just ... goes ... on ... forever.
We decide we're stopping at the next available opportunity.
At the bottom of the mountains, we hit a town, Austin. Time for rejoicing? Not quite. The first thing we see is a spray-painted sign warning about a speed trap. The next? The speed trap -- it was all John could do to get our speed down in time.
It's late by now, and we see a couple of scary looking bars, and two even-scarier looking motels with a bunch of Hogs out front. I'm sure the people of Austin, Nevada are good people and all, but they should know that after dark, their town looks like someplace where they serve wayward travelers with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
We decide not to stop.
So we keep driving ... and driving ... and driving ... and driving ... and driving ...
And there's no end to this road. We're in the Twilight Zone. We're trapped in some sort of alternative dimension where we are the only people.
This was one of the main routes of the Pony Express, so that was cool, but really. I thought people in Wyoming were isolated. Compared to this, people in the backwoods of Indiana are downright suburban!
About *midnight,* we start to see lights. A town! A good-sized, not so scary town! Fallon welcomes us with ... a bunch of totally booked motels.
It seems there was a *rodeo* in town. Danged cowboys! I grab the AAA guide and start dialing numbers, and we luck out at the Motel 8/casino -- one room left. Non-pet. Why no, I don't have a kitty! (/em hides cages behind her back.)
We were *scrupulous* about cleaning up after the felines, but we needed a bed. Who cared about dinner ... that passed hours ago. Shower and collapse.
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