Stranger in a strange land

I left my house as the sun was setting, driving out of a sunset and into the reddish dusk that turned into gloaming. Driving eastwards, away from the hills, the strip malls and superhighway gives way to a 30-mph speed limit. Smallish, older houses huddle up next to the road as if for protection from being completely forgotten; not much happens here. Matching suburban-sprawl housing developments disappear and are replaced by bungalows and dusty tractors, and fences keep in a few cows or horses that seem to be lacking inclination to even move, much less escape. A woman jogs alone along the side of the road. I wonder where she's from, and where she thinks she's going. This is Route-66 territory, though that forgotten road runs far south of here. This is Colorado before money moved in, resolutely holding out against prairie palaces and golf courses.



The interstate runs north and south, south towards New Mexico, north towards Wyoming. I can be in Laramie in 69 miles. The speed limit runs to 75 mph (140 kmh), and state patrol dodges heavy transport trucks from Tennessee and Texas to enforce it. I roll along, windows down, sneaking glances at the brilliant sunset illluminating the hills to my west, now visible as a chain of ragged teeth against a darkening sky. I feel like I could drive for hours, days. Somewhere north of Meade the scent of cattle hits like a wall. Silos dot the landscapes reminiscent of the area's past and dwindling present as a farming community. Cattle feedlots and fields, tractors and 'home', bygones of the world following the Goldrush and the Cattle Kings as tenacious remnants of another era. It feels as if I'm Steinbeck out to discover the country in which I was born and know little about. Glitzy strip malls and truck stops the size of small towns tempt the weary, like Homer's Sirens, or at least Kafka's--for these are silent--into stopping for lukewarm coffee and the dismal but somehow comforting ubiquitous fried food. I resist their call and drive on, for I have "miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep."