#17

February 6, 2008 – Where My Motherfuckin’ Wallet Be At?

OK, so I didn't leave my heart in San Francisco, but I did leave my wallet in a gas station ladies room in Winslow, Arizona (OK, so it was really Williams, not Winslow, but I figured I'd use a little poetic license. Unfortunately, my poetic license was in my damn wallet.)
I realized it an hour out & we went back, but no one had turned it in. Luckily, I had just gotten gas & stuck a credit card in my pocket, so there is that. Called my wonderful friend & personal banker Dena & had her kill my debit card & called the other credit card companies & killed those, so it's not a complete disaster, but is causing some inconviences.
But back to Death Valley....I really wasn't at all prepared for what I found there and I'm certainly not a good enough writer to properly describe it. I'm not sure anybody is. Suffice to say: Go There. I'm already planning a return trip to spend a few days at the mirage-like Furnace Creek Inn there. Oh, and if you go, play Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here as you drive through....it really worked for us.
We walked, we viewed, we cried, we took pictures, we stole rocks & sand, we danced, we all peed in the desert, we drove some more & repeated these actions several times. But the pictures don't catch the magic, the video doesn't capture the sheer vastness, the rocks aren't as deeply colored now that we've taken them from their homes. But we know. We were there.
Death Valley was also the scene of Megan's and my only real moment of contention. We both wanted to find The Racetrack, where some bizarre combination of weather & geology causes enormous boulders to move, seemingly under their own power across a dry lake bed leaving deep tracks. We finally found the road, but I was unnerved by a sign that read "High Clearance: 4 Wheel Drive Recommended". The irony is that my car actually does have 4 wheel drive, but neither Megan or I have any idea how to use it. (Note to self: RTFM). I was further dismayed by the next sign that informed us that The Racetrack was 27 miles away. But we didn't want to give up without at least trying, so I turned onto the road. 'Road' may actually be too strong a word, really....it was so bad that Megan speculated that it had been deliberately constructed that way, but I have doubts that even the spectacularly mis-guided and mis-managed Park Service would come that far & invest that much time & energy in such folly. But you never know. The speed limit sign optimistically read '35 MPH', but I can't imagine the masochist who would attempt anything that painful. I couldn't go over 5 MPH and it was bone-shattering. But Megan, younger and more resilient than I, was caught up in the adventure & wanted to see how far we could go. I wondered aloud whether she had done the math on how long it would take to go 54 miles at 5 miles an hour, and after a little snapping back & forth, we did indeed give up & turn back. But, as Megan & I are both grownups, we worked out our differences by the time we got back to the real road and moved on.
We headed out at sunset, east towards Nevada, deciding to overnight in the adorably-named Pahrump, which for some reason makes me think of cartoon elephants. Kind of a sad little town, but not without a certain seedy charm. And since it was just over the Nevada border, had several shiny, dazzling casinos.
More on Pahrump later...Megan's finally up & we're hitting the road towards home...we'll make it into Texas sometime today. Anybody out there wanna vote on whether after a rest-up back home, we should head onto the southeast? New Orleans, the Everglades, the Keys, Savannah, Charleston?