Entering the Netherland

I think my cat is a connoisseur of finer hotel rooms. It seems it never fails that when I check into a cramped, smelly, poorly kept Motel 6 or similar he yowlers most of the night and is very uncomfortable. However I’ve noticed, that the more expensive and expansive the room, the more settled in he behaves and hardly announces nary a quiet meow now and then. Tonight, after close to 500 miles I think, we have made it across the Oregon border, just barely, into the small town of Ontario which sports an older but nice Holiday Inn where we obtained the last pet room. He hasn’t said a word to me all evening—he just is content to gaze out the expansive sliding glass floor to ceiling door overlooking a grass courtyard and the babes at the pool. Let’s hope this keeps up so he lets me (& the neighbors) get some sleep tonight.

After having my tire pulled and inspected by the only tire shop in small town Salina last evening, nothing was found. However, I was paranoid all day it would go flat again so I pulled over about every 100 miles to put the gauge on it and inspected them all. At least now I am back in Les Schwab country, where I can have service for free if something happens. But I figure if it holds air until morning it likely will be OK to reach Bend, a jaunt of approximately 300 miles from here.

I feel bone weary tonight after doing what we refer to as the Mormon 500 today—that stretch of I-15 that runs from south of Provo to north of Salt Lake City; filled with fast moving and abusive traffic. It runs about 100 miles of “on your toes, total concentrated driving else you wreck” and leaves a country bumpkin like myself drained. Glad that’s over and the best is tomorrow—that wonderful back road Hwy. 20 traversing the hill and dale of sagebrush emptiness that is eastern Oregon. No one breathing up my tail and I’ll actually be able to see the 100 mile vista in front of me instead of the mess of smog and tail lights that is now Salt Lake City and environs.