‘Mer·i·ca/ˈmerəkə,ˈmərəkə/nouninformal•US EnglishAmerica (used especially to emphasize qualities regarded as stereotypically American, such as materialism or fervent patriotism). Banner photo: A drive through liquor store in Sheridan, Wyoming. What could possibly go wrong? Strip the color from an image and what are you left with? An ordered story. A quiet, pointed narrative free from the screaming …
You can always recognize the road warrior by looking at his arms. The right one, the one that rests on the center console is pale. The left one, the one that rests on the frame of the open window is weather beaten and bronze. October 15th, 2022The morning sun leaps angrily off the concertina wire …
October 14th, 2022I’m on a one night layover in Prison Town, USA. No, I’m not staying in a 6 x 8 concrete studio, courtesy of the great State of California. I am a less than satisfied guest of the Super 8 Motel, in Susanville, California. It ain’t all that super but we’ll leave the details …
The twelfth in a series of occasional posts about tripping along U.S. Highway 395. I’m southbound out of Pendleton, Oregon on Highway 395, a two lane sluice through broad fields of ranchland on either side of this solitary highway. Acres of yellow cheatgrass undulate in a light breeze and a bright morning sun just topping …
The tenth in a series of occasional posts about tripping along U.S. Highway 395. Antelope, Oregon marks the terminus of State Route 293 and the junction with State Route 218, which takes me back to U.S. 97 and the one time, “Wool Capital of the World.” Route 218 is just as isolated as 293 which …
The ninth in a series of occasional posts about tripping along U.S. Highway 395. Note: This post rated R. It’s six o’clock in the morning and the day didn’t begin as planned – I overslept. Next stop is Pendleton in Northern Oregon. It’s a six and a half hour drive, and I’d hoped to get …
Banner Photo: Dorris, California The eighth in a series of occasional posts about tripping along U.S. Highway 395. Eugene Charles Valla spent four years of his young life hanging onto the edge of his boyhood dream. Valla was 21 years old in 1947, when he was signed to a minor league contract with the New …
The seventh in a series of occasional posts about tripping along U.S. Highway 395. After our visit to Manzanar, Cora and I continued our trip south along Highway 395 to the last stop on our journey, Lone Pine, population 3700 and a visit to the Alabama Hills and the surrounding area. Festus Rogers squinted at …
The sixth in a series of occasional posts about tripping along U.S. Highway 395. Please note, this installment differs in tone from the previous chapters in this series. One of the wonderful things about travel is the opportunity to experience those places that excite in us a sense of wonder. In 2015 I took my …
The fifth in a series of occasional posts about tripping along U.S. Highway 395. Bridgeport is our home base for three days and two nights. We’re keeping it simple. In a town as small as Bridgeport, with few businesses, and some of those closed for the season, the choices are nominal. So keep it simple, …
The Life in My Years 