My Cape Cod of the West

My sister-in-law says it is 8 degrees in Massachusetts this morning, with a wind chill of minus 11.

Today I am happy to be in Arizona!

A day of one’s own
(earlier this year)

Ready to hit the road [almost]

Finished multi-tasking (huh?)
Laundry
Checked email
Made pb and j sandwich
Grabbed other necessities for road trip (water, coffee, music, hat, sunglasses, etc., enough to fill a “this is not a plastic bottle” bag)

For thirty five years, she has been my best travel companion. Usually reliable, always beautiful, sometimes needy or tempermental . . . my 64 ½ dark blue Mustang convertible.
And we hit the road.

Gentle giants
They pass, I wink
They flash
On this upgrade, as they struggle,
I pass.

Orme/Dugas. Finally.
On my way to Jerome, my Cape Cod of the West. But why go directly when you can detour? I’d heard stories about this exit, and having the time and inclination to do so, did so. Explore, that is.

Off to the east lay Dugas. I drove 10 miles on mostly pavement. Beautiful vistas. A couple mailboxes. No traffic. After three miles of dirt road and still no traffic, I decided to head back under the viaduct to Dugas. There was supposed to be a private school there, but I never saw it. What I did see were trucks; must have been 20 big rigs. I won’t call them gentle giants here, because they roared along on this narrow road. Where to? Saw a sign for some kind of garden produce, but it didn’t look likely. Never did see the school. Hmm, this must be a case for Scully and Mulder (perhaps they’ll come out of retirement for it?)