Driving
across Wyoming one experiences isolation from the rest of the country - there
is nothing! Miles and miles of
nothing! No wonder the speed limit is 80
miles per hour, you need to drive fast to get out of the nothing!
In a way it is interesting to look as far as
the eye can see (30 to 50 miles) and not see a billboard, not see a barn, not
see a road, not see power lines, not see house, not see any sign of
civilization. Let me tell you about that
old cowboy song:
Give me a home,
where the buffalo roam
And the dear
and the antelope play.
Where seldom
is hear a discouraging word
And the
skies are not cloudy all day.
The reason a
discouraging word cannot be heard is because there is nobody to say any
discouraging words to you. And unless
you are hallucinating and began to hear buffalo, dear and antelope talk to you,
there will be no discouraging words. And
let me tell you about the antelope, those lazy assess were not playing, they
were gorging themselves in a lush little valley sitting around getting fat like
the rest of us. And as for the buffalo,
yes, they were roaming but after being almost extinct by the early settlers,
killing off the Indians' food supply, there is not that many left to roam. If you want to get away from the world, get
away from the internet, email, telephone, television; get away from your wife
(because she sure like hell would not live out here), then build a home where
the buffalo roam and dear and the lazy-ass antelope lay around getting fat.
Antelope Feeding (not playing)
Buffalo Roaming
We stopped
to eat at Gillette, WY in a little Mexican restaurant (yes, Mexicans are
everywhere in this country), but we could not eat there because we had the dog
and it was too hot to leave him in the car, so we settled to eat on the outside
tables of McDonald's. Half the staff in
McDonald's were over 80 years old, the poor lady cleaning the tables was barely
able to move around - my thought was: "hey, it's a Republican state, don't
believe in a social support net and everyone (mostly poor people) pulls their weight
until they die." The customers were
either very old people barely able to move (it was a real struggle for them to
get out of their cars and into the restaurant) or Mormon missionaries trying to
strike up a conversation with anyone they came across. I must have a very evil aura around me
because they did not even attempt to come close to me.
Driving in a conversion van has certain comforts, Adrian is laid out like a week's washing and the dog could not be happier - as long as we stop every couple of hours for some exercise and a doggie pooie break.
We left
Gillette and headed to Sheridan or destination for the evening and got about
three miles and I had to pull over and stop.
My battery charge indicator gage needle was oscillating like crazy and
hovering at about 10 volts. I looked for
the next emergency median crossover and returned to Gillette. At the AutoZone, a check of the battery
indicated that the alternator's voltage regulator was not functioning; it was charging
erratically with an average of 13.43 volts.
Since all garages in Gillette were closed down for the weekend (at 3:30
p.m. on Saturday), I decided to gamble and drive to Sheridan. We got there with no problem and now I have
to wait until Monday morning and hopefully the Chevy dealer can change it early
enough to allow us to get to Yellowstone before dark on Monday.
Meantime, I
will take the risk that the alternator will hold up and take a quick trip to
the Little Big Horn, Montana tomorrow and visit the site where a bunch of brave
Indians stopped the massacre that Custer was out to carry out.
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