Day Two From The Road

Day Two: Winnemucca Nevada to Tooele Utah

Today wasn't nearly as tiring as day one although it was fraught with a few minor mishaps. Right off the bat, I left my cell phone in the Holiday Inn in Winnemucca. A good samaritan turned it in to the desk thankfully. I have not made the address book transistion since the old iBook went tango uniform. Some day I've really got to commit numbers to paper. The second and funnier of the two was as I was coming across I-80 from Wendover Nevada to Tooele it was a clear beautiful day. Then about thirty miles out a few clouds had developed. I had never been to Tooele (pronounced Too-el-AH) but by my reckoning it was raining in the right spot. About twenty miles out it began to down pour. I decided to forgo the rainsuit and just yoke up. About ten miles out it was over, you know how those afternoon showers out west are. By the time I got to the hotel I was pretty much dry again. I had come 738 miles in perfect weather and got rained on 20 miles from my destination.

While stopping for gas and a drink of water in Wendover, I was standing in the parking lot enjoying a banana and reflecting on all the odd balls at the pumps. The world seems to be getting more and more crowded with subset's of people. For some reason there is always a tall fat guy with curly red-blonde hair, with a goatee and the hotrod flame tattoo on his forearm. He'll be wearing a black silk bowling shirt and cut-off BDU shorts. I don't know how many times I've seen this guy across the country. Of course he belongs to the group with the flaming forearm tattoo also. Usually young men who haven't yet given up the Fred Durst look. Than there's the earth muffin flowerchild. She can be found in a Toyota pick-up usually with a dog and a Nalgeen bottle. She may be thin, aging but with an ethereal beauty and wearing flowing dresses or if younger, a little heavy and possibly lesbian. There is also the urban cowboy look. Cowboy hat, fancy, colorful shirt, boots and a walk like I get after six hours on the motorcycle. You have to give this look credit, it has endured. And then, at this gas station anyway, there was the Devil's Rejects. These guys that look like they belong in a dirty little western town. With a black leather vest over a torso stretched thin like jerky and snaggly white hair, you can't help but think this guy was dressing that way to shock. His buddy wasn't much better.

I don't know if I've explained this well. Maybe I've just never noticed before, I hate to sound like an old fogie. I just don't remember it being that easy to pigeon hole people by their appearance. You can't really do it anymore either. All types of people are adapting all kinds of looks these days. I even do it with my shaved head and goatee. Who am I trying to fool, I'm a sweetheart. You can't really judge a book by it's cover but these days it's getting easier to catagorize the covers.