Saturday.
An easy day from Green River into Colorado, through Grand Junction, third
gear over Vail Pass, third gear up to the Eisenhower tunnel, down into
Denver in the rain.
Driving over mountain passes, it's not unusual to see signs at the top
warning truckers to stop and check their brakes. So I wonder: how do
truckers check their brakes. They pull over and what? Touch the wheels to
see if they're hot? Reach around and pinch the disk? Really, what to
truckers do to check their brakes at the top of a mountain? And why?
I understand that they will need their brakes going down the other side, but
they just came up the front side. Did they have to use their brakes to get
up? Unlikely. What is there about driving uphill for about an hour without
using your brakes that would make it necessary to stop and check them to
make sure they're okay?
In Barstow, on Thursday, we pulled up at the RV island to fuel. Both lanes
were occupied, so we picked one and waited. In front of us was a new white
pickup truck with flames painted on it, towing a big white fast boat. In
the other lane was a new white motorhome with flames painted on it, towing
the white jet skis. We wondered if they might be together. Judy got out to
check. It turns out they were together. He and she. A couple, with three
kids. They had been out playing and were headed home. She is a
schoolteacher. He is retired. He's pretty young to be retired. 35. 35
years old, retired, three young kids, and playing with toys like that?
Retired from what?
Football. Pat something. Played with the Raiders and Patriots. Tall
skinny guy. Must have been a wide receiver or db.
At Susie's house on the river, we sat out at night and watched the bats.
John would get out his 5 million candlepower hand held light, and shine it
into the sky until he spotted a flying bug. He'd hold the light on the
flying bug until a bat swooped through the beam to snatch it up. We saw a
lot of bats. We saw nighthawks, called riverhawks there, and stars and
satellites. We listened to the screaming moans coming from the other side
of the river at night. Screaming moaning frogs in the desert.
A three hundred fifty mile day.
The trip is over. We saw lots of good stuff. Picked up some new birds.
Made it to 300. Didn't get to see the purple martins in Kansas. Didn't get
to see the black swifts in Ouray. Didn't get to see the giant condors
flying free in the Grand Canyon.
Guess we just didn't stay out long enough.
