We got a late start out of LA. Which was very unfortunate, given the awful traffic that plagued us until we were well past Pomona. And what do two girlish women (or women-ish girls) talk about when they have hours upon hours of road ahead of them? Well, I’ll leave that to your imagination. I vastly enjoy road trips with congenial company. Maybe it’s the camaraderie, the air of excitement, or maybe just the captive audience … because honestly, where can she run to?
When the sun had cast its last fiery farewells to the moon, thick darkness fell all around. That is, until it was shorn to tatters by the brilliant and jagged lightening rods that Zeus threw down from his heaven to light the way. Lightening storms followed us all the way to Hualapai Hilltop. No rain or thunder, just brief seconds wherein portions of sky tried to trick us into believing it was the middle of a sunny day. Eerie, and yet not. I actually really dislike driving long distances in unlighted areas, and at least the lightening illuminated the sky to the point that I knew that vast mountain ranges were not closing in on me, as they seemed to do driving down to Arches from SLC.
We stopped outside of Barstow for gas. It was selling for an outrageous $3.24/gallon … absolutely ridiculous given that gas in LA was selling for $2.97 that same day. At least we know now where not to stop on the return trip.
We stopped again in Seligman, where the gas was a much more accommodating $2.79. Quick stop over at a Dairy Queen for dinner. Had to order the onion rings to further my search for the best onion rings in the nation. The DQ version stood up pretty well … sliced a good thickness (not too wide or thin), fried up extra crispy, and eaten hot. The cafeteria at my work also does a pretty good job, although I hate it when the rings stick together in the oil, making for some soggy rings. However, the best onion rings have to be the ones at the Greek place in Westwood Village. The name escapes me just now, but it’s a fantastic place for lunch, and I think I will start taking friends there.
Got to Highway 18, and I ran out of steam about 40 miles in. At which point Highland Hiker kindly offered to take over the wheel. How thankful was I!
When we finally arrived, we tried to get comfortable for a final night’s sleep on upholstered surfaces. I was almost out, when I heard the distinctive high-pitch whine of one of my most hated enemies … a mosquito! Just the thought of it flying around in my car, was enough to keep me “awaker than a guilty conscience.” HH tried to lure it with her headlamp and smash it with her hands of death, but to no avail. In vain I chanted, “Die! Die! Die!” but the little bugger eluded us with much skill.
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