I left the scorching hot desert with food on the brain thanks to what I suspect was a wonderful Mormon family. It's funny what you consider close when you started your journey in pa...but Salt Lake City was just a few hours away and I almost moved tgere when I was a wee one (a teenager). So SLC was where I decided I'd lay my noggin for the night.
Since I've explored SLC quite a bit, I knew the one place I wanted to stop:
This is the best Mexican food I've ever had...EVER. I was so hungry and desperate for civilization after almost getting lost and dying in the desert....I'll be honest, I was booking to get there. Then I searched their hours and found out I would arrive five minutes after they close...soni was REALLY booking then. But seriously, it's the desert, no one cares. AND you can see everything for miles. I hit 95mph easy. Hobbes was not pleased. Hobbes may be developing asthma as a result...
I totally was winning a very serious game of beat the GPS. Which is a very dangerous game that should never be played young'uns ;)
Then something came out of the desert that had no business being there...it's not what you think!
It was an honest to god one horse town...
I was in shock! People live here! A horse lives here! My "piece 'o lead" came off the accelerator, my chin rested at 12 on the steering wheel and I pushed my sunglasses on top of the old thinker...
What in Gods name made these poor neglected humans stop here?! (I'm sure there was a river somewhere)
I hadn't seen a "town" in so long I didn't know what to do! I did know Taft the speed was probably not 90mph. I was going a snails pace at 50mph when I hit town...
I found out 5 minutes later, speed limit: 40.
Bwoop Bwoop! (Damn you Schrufer, you jinxed me!)
Right as I got outta town, he got me. If you know my past, I have been known to get pulled over a time or two. I know the drill, but what I can't stop is my laughing. It surely doesn't help my case.
"Did you see me on Main Street ma'am?"
In my head: "there's a freaking Main Street?!"
Out loud: "tehehe, no sorry!"
"Whelp, speed limits 40mph, I clocked you going 55."
....(am I supposed to respond) awkward head nod and giggle...
...............losing beat the GPS.............
"Um, I wasn't sure the speed, guess I missed the sign."
"You coming from Moab?"
Reaching in glovebox full of tampons, looking for insurance and registration...
"Uh (pause with hand stuffed between tampons) yeah, how'd you know?"
"Well ya have the bike in the rack (starting to like this strapping young cop) and well..." (This means there is absolutely nothing between here and Moab)
"Oh right..." Gives dashing copper papers.
What seemed like precious red iguana Mexican food time slipping away...staring at the one horse on the outskirts of town I wait.
The handsome cop comes back and gives me the lesser fine, I sign the paper and he bids me farewell trying to be regretful of the ticket.
And this is where I always "carry the water melon" (this reference is from dirty dancing). I respond with "(giggle giggle) THANKS FOR THE SOUVENIR!"
Crap crap crap...roll up the window, shift into gear and get the hell outta dodge at an easy 40 something mph!
Well red iguana was not going to happen so I dropped down to 85mph. Just a slow cruise really. Then since my music was making my ears bleed from the repititions, I popped in one if the CDs John the janitor had graciously made for the trip. He has been my school music guru all year, sharing my passion for the Beatles. This cd was a collection of what he called "pastoral classical songs."
Well, this is the sad part...
I've got peaceful music playing, a $90 speeding ticket sitting next to me and a couple of hours left to SLC. I'm exhausted from hiking in the heat, it's like midnight eastern time with no one to talk to, and I'm dehydrated with no Mexican food in my belly...
Ya know what I do in times like this? I hug my mommy. She's not here. No one was there...
I finally hit the point that the brains of this operation (Angela) told me would eventually happen. I finally felt the aloneness that only classical music and a speeding ticket can induce. I cried.
I'm not a pretty crier. This mug looks like a wet hairless cat that has sunburn when I cry. I think I scared some neighboring cars. I made awful eye contact with a few drivers...they promptly changed lanes. All those hopeless feelings came back and I cried for at least an hour until I was almost to my shitty motel.
Of course I sent a message to my mamma and then texted Angela to let her know she was right. I bought some beer and put it next to the bed and fell asleep.
I wanted you to know the sad part and that all the sad things I carried on the east are still here with me because adventure is not all sunshine and rainbows (and of course unicorns) it's also the strength you have to strain through sadness to feel happy despite it. Yin and yang: you'll never appreciate the wonderful things until you set them next to the sadder ones to see the difference.
Also I was hungry. You're never happy when you're hungry.
So lets set some happy next to that:
I finally got some delicious mole at my favorite SLC restaurant! Then I drove around the Mormon temple (that I learned as a teen you should never compare to the Disney castle even though it looks just like it) and I waved at Moroni! He is the prophet on top of the temple who is made of gold. Legend has it that at the end of time he comes to life and sounds his horn and all the Mormons who have been good boys and girls get to go to heaven. No one else.
To remember his name, I used to call him macaroni Moroni. (C'mon like other people haven't thought of it!)
I gave my mamma an update of my whereabouts and the following text ensued:
Happy ending! Mamma knows how to set things right!