Okay, so there I was in Colorado, where I had a cozy chat with friends from long ago. Eventually, I had to start home.
I never did find a place in that small town to get a decent breakfast. The hotel offered donuts, but I have to watch my blood sugar, so that wasn't a good option. All the restaurants I saw were either fast food without a breakfast menu or associated with a bar and not open until 11 AM. I pulled out of town at 7:30 AM with a couple ounces of cheese to serve as my breakfast. Not a great start to the day.
It started raining while I was on that 2-lane Colorado highway. I carefully considered the landscape every time I came across a sign that declared this section of road was in a 'flash flood zone'. I suppose the locals know what they're talking about, but … all I saw were low ridges all around, sloping down to a valley some 5 or 6 feet below the asphalt roadway. No dry creek bed or eroded section to indicate past floods. Happily, it wasn't raining hard enough for me to see where a flash flood would come from.
It was still raining when I got to Nebraska, and suddenly I had plenty of company on the road. You know, it's disconcerting to find yourself zipping along at 75-80 amidst a herd of 18-wheelers, all jostling each other as they jockey for a position closer to the front of a VERY long line of traffic. Add rain heavy enough to put your wipers on high speed, and the experience becomes worrisome. So my trip east through Nebraska was not as happy as my trip west had been, except that each exit I went past put me that much closer to home.
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