20071113 Put Away the Chapstick and Break Out the Bug Spray
20071113 Put Away the Chapstick and Break Out the Bug Spray
With the Arizona land bubble deflated if not burst, the afternoon of the 10th became the time to move east. The work season in the Everglades begins on the 18th, so I’d have the time to drive slowly and take several breaks over the next two thousand miles or so. I almost always do the first and rarely the second.
What I seem to be able to do is time these long journeys with record oil prices. Crude is approaching $100 at this writing, the highest it has ever been. Gas prices are up about 80 cents per gallon over last year and go up daily. I wonder how long I can afford to make these twice yearly cross-country drives? But I digress.
As I drove toward New Mexico in the late afternoon, enough moisture moved in to produce clouds and a lovely sunset. Rain fell, but evaporated before ever reaching the ground, a phenomenon they call virga.
Nighttimes on these trips are spent in the back of the truck. My bed is warm and comfy despite the conditions outside. In fact, when rain falls I can execute a forward roll from the cab through the sliding window to the campershell and be in bed without ever stepping outside. Returning to the cab can be a bit of a trick, but is doable. For the quiet I prefer parking along country roads but for convenience often sleep in truck stops.
I remember when I first came across the concept of an infinite universe. I couldn’t conceive of it. Something must be on the other side. In numbers can’t I have infinity plus one? I have recently discovered what lies beyond infinity—it is Louisiana.
Texas seems to go on forever. You wake up in Texas, drive all day, and go to sleep in Texas. You drive and drive the second day and you are still in Texas. Still, I like driving across the Lone Star state in the daytime so that I can watch the transition.
After being in desert from the east side of the Sierra Nevada in California, all across Arizona, New Mexico, and west Texas, the hill country of central Texas provides some eye relief in the form of greenery. I love the desert, so much so that I am trying to buy land there. I must admit, though, that green is easier to look at than tan and brown. Beyond the hill country to east Texas begin the bayous.
Boy was it dry in Arizona. In the more than a week I visited the humidity never rose above 20% and was often much less. During the day I was always drinking. Reaching for chapstick became reflex. My hands cracked and bled. Now, as I sit mindlessly scratching my bare legs ouside the Mississippi Welcome Center on I-10, I reallize it’s time to put away the chapstick and break out the bug spray.
With the Arizona land bubble deflated if not burst, the afternoon of the 10th became the time to move east. The work season in the Everglades begins on the 18th, so I’d have the time to drive slowly and take several breaks over the next two thousand miles or so. I almost always do the first and rarely the second.
What I seem to be able to do is time these long journeys with record oil prices. Crude is approaching $100 at this writing, the highest it has ever been. Gas prices are up about 80 cents per gallon over last year and go up daily. I wonder how long I can afford to make these twice yearly cross-country drives? But I digress.
As I drove toward New Mexico in the late afternoon, enough moisture moved in to produce clouds and a lovely sunset. Rain fell, but evaporated before ever reaching the ground, a phenomenon they call virga.
Nighttimes on these trips are spent in the back of the truck. My bed is warm and comfy despite the conditions outside. In fact, when rain falls I can execute a forward roll from the cab through the sliding window to the campershell and be in bed without ever stepping outside. Returning to the cab can be a bit of a trick, but is doable. For the quiet I prefer parking along country roads but for convenience often sleep in truck stops.
I remember when I first came across the concept of an infinite universe. I couldn’t conceive of it. Something must be on the other side. In numbers can’t I have infinity plus one? I have recently discovered what lies beyond infinity—it is Louisiana.
Texas seems to go on forever. You wake up in Texas, drive all day, and go to sleep in Texas. You drive and drive the second day and you are still in Texas. Still, I like driving across the Lone Star state in the daytime so that I can watch the transition.
After being in desert from the east side of the Sierra Nevada in California, all across Arizona, New Mexico, and west Texas, the hill country of central Texas provides some eye relief in the form of greenery. I love the desert, so much so that I am trying to buy land there. I must admit, though, that green is easier to look at than tan and brown. Beyond the hill country to east Texas begin the bayous.
Boy was it dry in Arizona. In the more than a week I visited the humidity never rose above 20% and was often much less. During the day I was always drinking. Reaching for chapstick became reflex. My hands cracked and bled. Now, as I sit mindlessly scratching my bare legs ouside the Mississippi Welcome Center on I-10, I reallize it’s time to put away the chapstick and break out the bug spray.
posted by Tim at 8:12 AM
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1 Comments:
Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!
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