Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy

8.16.10

I 84 10:02 am.

We have now experienced the full joy of the Budget Host Continental Breakfast. There’s nothing quite like 4 ounce cups of coffee colored vinegar and day old bagels from a drawer.* Em discovered that the toaster did not work about a minute after pressing the tab down.  We will likely be grabbing a snack on our way out of Boise.

2:47 pm

Idaho is much bigger than I remembered; though Boise itself was less than spectacular, the southeastern part has suddenly turned awesome, in the way that that word means, rather than how it is used.

The landscape

We tend to feel a little unsteady in the Whale, as we hurtle down the road with more than a little swagger and sway. The eerie hum that the beast drones out at higher velocities, a hum which we have dubbed the Whalesong, sometimes almost sounds like it’s singing along like we are.

I 80 10:32 pm

Wyoming, too, is very large, and is filled with a great deal of bizarre features.  Among these, permanently a part of the landscape: a combined fireworks stand/liquor store (for that trip to the hospital you’ve been angling for); a place called “Little America”, which seemed to be a glorified rest stop with some very, very fat people (and a girl who had a seizure or a fainting spell but then skedaddled before the EMTs could arrive); several windtunnels through the mountains, which led to an extreme buffeting of the Whale and some rather terrifying rocking to and fro ;¹ and a warning sign about alligators at the hot springs. 

Shortly before this photo was taken, the little one was
 gnawing on the big one's arm. Em guessed it was out of actual hunger, since the big one probably takes precedence.

Less permanently a part of the landscape (though perhaps not, as I don’t proclaim to know the intimate details of the exciting Wyoming highway life) was the flaming ball of semi-truck we passed a while back.  It’s common to describe vehicles exploding (see Questing: Back at Sea, Part I ) as an effective bit of storyteller’s hyperbole; allow me to explain to you right now that I’m not using any narrative or exaggerative device when I say the following:

IT BLOWED UP.

We saw the plume of black smoke from about a mile away,² and the fireball as soon as we rounded the corner of the highway. From that distance, we surmised that it was a building on fire, but Em joked that it may have been a semi. Harsh reality proved that to be so—the cab of the truck was blistering and white, and it seemed to have been heating up for quite a while, as the westbound traffic was backed up and no fire brigade had yet made it to the scene.

Not hyperbole. It done blowed up.

Since it has turned dark, we have experienced a few harrowing, one-lane sections of highway and the White Whale’s petulant refusal to take hills at consistent speeds (certain hills may get 70 mph, others warrant a top speed of 38 mph).  It keeps on moving, though, and does it well.

2:34 am. Sidney, Nebraska

Em and I touched 4 states today, kind of unintentionally (total mileage, day 2: 834 miles).  We attempted to find a hotel in Wyoming, and wound up here, in Sidney.   Hotel rooms are apparently at quite a premium along I 80, and this is the first place along the highway with any vacancy. 

We asked the GPS for towns and hotels. It gave us this.

The America's Best Value Inn, you are our best friend.

Tomorrow, we take on Nebraska.

Notes:

* This is not an exaggeration. We had to sort through plastic drawers to find the food.

¹ If this van is a-rockin;, you best be giving some extra lead time. Or driving on a different road.

² To be fair, Wyoming is flat. It’s probable we could have seen it from much further away.