05-01-11 - The long and winding road

05-01-11
“The long and winding road
That leads to your door”
762.6 miles
I packed the car with one good hand and the help of my nephew, Converse, getting the Futon I place was an awkward exercise. But everything got in place and I took off heading for Watonga, and Denver. I stopped at the welcome center near Tinker AFB and got a state map. Gassed up in Yukon on Garth Brooks Blvd at the Murphy’s gas station near the Wal-Mart. They had the lowest prices a week ago and they still were the lowest though a week had risen the price from $3.51 to $3.75 (still lower than many areas in the state).
I was set to meet Larry Joe Horany at a truckstop in Watonga. He had heard my interview with Dick Gordon on April 4th and and offered to replace my tent with a tent he’d won and never used to help us on the Journey. I was originally going to get the tent one of the first days in the week in Oklahoma, but getting shelter with my nephew’s family for the week altered that and made more since to pick it up on the way out of state. We met at the Truck stop which seemed more like a regular service station with a convenience store compared to the Truck stops I was used to seeing along the roads, but I guess they take all forms and sizes.
I drove up and was confused as the truck stop name I was looking for didn’t seem to match the two choices of gas station available to me. I was starting to have my right hand give me problems ( Gout or Carpel Tunnel I suspected - I was rooting for Gout!) and shifting was already starting to become a problem. I called Larry as I made a choice and pulled into the bigger of the two station and making the left hand turn light that was offered me at the moment.
I got Larry and he said he’d seen me, go thru the intersection and enter the parking lot. I had not yet spotted him. He said he was at the back and I drove around to find him. He waved me down (I, of course had taken the furthest distance to find him. We talked near our vehicles and Larry was a generous spirit with a ready smile. He showed me the tent and it was even smaller than what I had been using storage wise and I was glad of that. He also offered me a trucker’s map book, a ponderous thing, but sturdy and useful. I accepted it and asked about his background in Oklahoma and his work with UPS. I asked if he would be willing to do an interview for the book and he obliged. He revealed he was a life long Oklahoman and had been a truck driver once but was happy to be a UPS driver now. Also happy to have a steady job with the way the economy had been. That Oklahoma had something like only 4% unemployment compared to the rest of the country and had escaped some of the worst parts of the downturn that had afflicted most of the country over the last few years. We finished the interview and I thanked him for his help and headed back on the road.
The road was a long one, taking me diagonally northwest toward Woodward and then into the Oklahoman panhandle called “No-man’s lad”. I had originally plotted my course to go to Boise City and up into Colorado westward until I hit Trinidad and then up the 25 thru Pueblo - Colorado Springs and then finally the Denver Area.
But the potential to go thru Dodge and across to Pueblo was an opportunity I didn’t want to pass up. I knew I wouldn’t dip down that far in the state when I went east in Kansas week proper, so this was my chance to see the town of legend.
But first I had to get thru Oklahoma. And the opportunities for restroom stops seemed to dry up…at the most inopportune times. About 5 miles shy of Woodward, I couldn’t stand it anymore and pulled off the side of the road. There had been absolutely no traffic around me before I pulled off, but as soon as I did and hiked to a fence, cars came from every direction. And my full bladder seemed to take it’s own sweet time empting. Luckily, I finished before I could be nabbed for indecent exposure. People could speculate as much as they wanted, but they would need DNA to prove anything!

Back on the road and driving thru Woodward and onto the flat of the Panhandle, I kept seeing signs for places in Texas. I was less than 30 miles at almost any time from the Texas border and it gave me a strange feeling. No Man’s land indeed. No State’s land! This arbitrary strip of land was a place that could just as well be called Kansas or Texas as Oklahoma. Sure Dust Bowl “Okeys” had stuck it out from Sooner days thru the Dust Bowl (not having the resources or will to leave) but again…it might just as well be Texas…or Kansas.
It was around here (the panhandle) that my right wrist really started being painful. Luckily there was not that many times I needed to shift gears along the straight path. From Ft. Supply to May to Slapout to Elmwood, just long stretches of road with few speed limit changes. Lots of rolling hills of road like going over ocean troughs. And as I approached Elmwood, it was with a hopeful heart and again a full bladder. I pulled into a gas station convenience store that had the words “Open” on the front door. When I got out of the car to go in I tried the door and it was locked with no sign of anyone inside. I looked at the front door again and the sign that said open and then over at the window near where the counter inside was and saw a hand written sign that said “Closed”. WHAT!?
Give me a break. I was angry as well about to burst. I hoped back into my car and drove to the gas station across the street…it too was closed. Two gas stations in the town and neither open. I looked around the premises and saw a fence. I felt an irresistible urge and I took it. Right at the intersection of 3 & 23. Indecent exposure be damned. If they didn’t want this sort of behavior they should keep a gas station open!
I was now able to think a little bit straighter and offered my travel companion, Mischa the same opportunity as I had just taken. She seemed less distressed about it than I had been but was equally grateful for the opportunity. We left Elmwood and headed north thru Beaver (no jokes) and on into Kansas. As we crossed into Kansas territory the windmills and rolling sandy hills gave a different feel to the land. As we approached the town of Meade I saw a farm house that I swore reminded me of the farm from The Wizard of Oz. I tried to get a photo of it but the camera took too long to come on and I was past it before I could attempt a backwards shot of it. I was too concerned about time to go back for the shot. I passed a park/campsite for Meade that looked like it would have been a nice place to stay. I even considered staying there for the night and going into Colorado the next day getting in at a decent time, but I didn’t want to mix states out of time. Staying overnight was kind of officially “Staying” in that state and I wanted to keep things sort of “clean” I was even hoping not to even buy any gas or anything in the state but get the next purchase across the border in Colorado. I though I could make it.
Attaining Meade, I first saw a sign (entering from the south of town) that said “Dalton hideout - 2 blocks”.
I took a few pictures and traveled on. Meade had a lot of old brick turn of last century buildings in it’s downtown center. But the main emphasis of the town seemed to revolve around the Dalton Hideout. I had to see. I drove down and looked at it. Very tourist trap-y. I took pictures and left town. Kinda like a thief.
I headed northeast to Dodge City.
I already knew it would be a tourist trap but I figured, with all it’s history it would be a classy one. I was only half right. The main drag was named after a deputy Marshal rather than the towns most famous Marshal (Bat Masterson). The Main drag was named Wyatt Earp Blvd (East & West). Well, whatever. On the east side was an old Train Depot that seemed to have been from “the day” at the division intersection is a giant bronzed Steer and to the west is a “imitation” Boot Hill (museum - the real thing is in Tombstone!)
I took pictures but only the gaudy Boot Hill exterior buildings came out. I headed west along highway 50 and “Got outta Dodge” and happily so.

I passed thru Cimarron, Garden City and a half dozen other towns before crossing the border to Holly. I turned to Mischa and said “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore Mischa!” It was lost on her.
The worst town to get past…had been Garden City. They kept having signs that led you to follow HYW 50 and then zig-zagged the path thru the town and losing me. I drove down three different paths until I realized I was no longer on 50. I grew frustrated and stopped at a gas station to ask the teller if he knew how to get out of Garden City and back on 50 to Pueblo. A customer was listening as I asked the teller and said “Pueblo” I’m heading there, just follow me” I was a little skeptical at first until I saw his van. He worked for a Spanish radio station in Pueblo and Colorado Springs. What he was doing in Garden City I didn’t think to ask, but I followed him until I was over half way thru Colorado and needed to stop for gas. I’m grateful for his help. The long drive thru Colorado on the 50 was tiring and a little nerve wracking as well as at times, painful. I had gone to shifting with my left hand almost exclusively since leaving Garden City.
Additionally, I was watching my gas gage and wondering if I had enough to make it to a “bigger” town that might have lower gas prices.
I also was calling my grand niece, Kyrie and making plans for arriving late. I had gained an hour back of daytime by crossing into Colorado from Central to Mountain time, so my arrival would be an hour more tiring to me than my arrival would be to them. Upon getting to Pueblo at about 10 pm, (their time) I called and we estimated that I wouldn’t arrive much before 1pm at the best of driving times. I got texted address and directions and had a sort of good idea in my mind (though a different pathway) to the house so I was fairly confident I could get there, I was more worried about disturbing anyone when we got in late. She said they’d leave the front door unlocked for me. I didn’t feel comfortable about that, for safety issues, but they seemed confident it was ok and the other option was keeping someone up late and that seemed the worse situation.
Driving thru Colorado Springs I started sneezing vehemently past three off ramps. I guesses it was spring allergies making their presence known. I stopped just after that at a gas station that had prices in the $3.55 range and got gas to get me all the way there. I got a subway sandwich (with Swiss Cheese for the first time since leaving “southern states” where they don’t offer -much less even know what Swiss cheese actually is!) I walked Mischa just as a big school bus came in. It was a bus for a college sports team from Trinidad. They had just finished a tourney and had won at least their last game. I was after midnight and they looked less tired than I felt, but they had that after event, ride home look. Part up from the event, but energies ebbing from long freeway miles (and many more to go I suspected, but perhaps less that I still faced.) We got back on the freeway and drove long miles in darkness and climbing elevation. At one point I was very high in mountainous terrain and on coming lights were blinding my already tired eyes. I had to use “Brights” to see what was on my side of the divided (thankfully) highway, but kept switching back to low beams to avoid harming motorists coming from the opposite direction.
Coming down the mountain and seeing the light polution of the greater Denver Metropolitan area was an extra surge of adrenaline that woke my senses up for the final push. I kept driving thinking I must be close and then realizing I’d not yet made the Downtown area, much less the north central area for my rest.
As I passed the downtown coliseum and business districts I felt that I must be getting close. But little things were blowing into my windshield. Confetti? It must be snow, but it seemed to disappear before it could actually hit the window. Like mysterious elves playing dodge with my windshield and disappearing “Poof” before hitting it. I felt the road getting a little slicker and driving with only one trustworthy hand as I was, I slowed down to 55 mph. Luckily that was also the speed limit at that area.
Also complicating my navigation at this time of night was that the freeways were being worked on in the late night hours and many lanes were being closed down for work. Many lanes along my path, funneling the few late night drivers into a cluster. I got thru the last gauntlet just at my off ramp. The rest was just city streets and aside from the pain of downshifting for stop lights and accelerations through the gears, the rest of the distance was fairly straight forward. I got to the house and parked as I had been told would be safe and gathered the minimum of things to take with me, Mischa, a sleeping bag, my netbook and writing pads.
We came into the house as quietly as possible and climbed that stairs. Went to the open room and put the sleeping bag on the mattress, used the bathroom and then settled in for some much needed sleep.
2 am their time; 3 am my time.
It was a new day yesterday, but it's an old day now. Thankfully, about to end in sleep.