Ah, Peter, the roads I traveled were not dusty, per se. Those roads, of so very long ago, covered landscapes which had not changed in at least the prior 50 years--maybe more. Many of the roads were bordered with wild flowers as far as the eye could see, growing up to and over the pavement--well maintained pavement, by the way. And, no, even though it was the 1960s, I wasn't high on anything. <g>
At the time, I had a favorite Mexican restaurant, located in Socorro, New Mexico. I would stop there, both ways, on each trip. After a few trips, I figured out how I could finagle lunch AND dinner at that most excellent restaurant and without undue delay in my appointed destinations. I set out eagerly that morning, already tasting the terrific food which awaited me at that fine eatery . . . only to find the restaurant had burned down since my last trip through. My disappointment that day knew no bounds! Then I sulked off to find a Denny's.
I remember an occasion when, while tooling through a sleepy, ghost of a town in Texas, I was pulled over by the local constable. When I asked why they had stopped me, I was told that I had a cracked taillight and should replace it. Their given reason for stopping me rang false, as they had been headed in the opposite direction when they suddenly made a swift U-turn to pull me ovoer and tell me of a cracked taillight. They also engaged me in a somewhat lengthy and quite pleasant conversation. No, they didn't give me a ticket--not even a written warning. I drove off, pleased and relieved.
On my next trip through said sleepy, ghost of a town in Texas, I stopped for coffee at a local cafe. I had occasion to mention my experience with the local constable to the waitperson. She laughed long and loud, and between her long and loud laughter, she told me that that surely was her brother and he and his partner made it a point to stop pretty girls who were traveling alone. I left her a generous tip and left the cafe quite pleased and puffed. <g> - Holly |
