Tuesday, October 7
In the previous post I mentioned that Bridget and I rode into Salina.
We make this short jaunt of 10 miles or so from our camp in order to set up an appointment for an oil change for the Perfect Tow Vehicle. Sure, I could phone. I’d rather have a reason to drive into town.
Remember Del?
That’s the guy I met last May while camped along the border of his property. He and his son Reg showed me the one-room cabin they built.
Well, last spring Del recommended Don’s Sinclair in Salina for auto service and repair. Del and Don have known each other most of their lives.
Whenever you can get a recommendation from a local, go for it!
I secure an appointment for tomorrow at 9:30. Bridget and I once again head over to Carl Jr. It’s lunchtime, I’m hungry, and I don’t feel like sitting in a restaurant.
After several days nursing a cold inside the Best Little Trailer, I want to be outside!
“How ’bout a picnic, Bridge?”
Salina has a little park with two picnic tables. It’s located behind the new War Veterans Memorial on State Street. Bridget discovers the grass is lush and I discover that there are times when a batch of salty french fries tastes awfully good.
In the photo below Bridget illustrates the happy picnic we enjoy in the park.
Bridget having a wonderful time at the park
Later we have visitors at camp!
I hear a truck pull up and stick my head out the door of the BLT.
“Hey, Sue!”
“Is that you, Del?” I exclaim with a grin as I hurry over to his truck.
“Yeah, it’s me. We were driving past and I said, ‘That looks like Sue’s camper!'”
Del introduces his two passengers . . .
. . . his mother-in-law and sister-in-law. We chat for a few minutes with me standing by Del’s open window. I ask about Del’s son, Reg, and learn he’s doing fine. We update each other on our lives over the summer and then it’s time for them to leave.
Wednesday, October 8
Heavy cloud cover makes for a very dark morning. Good day for an oil change . . . .
As soon as I pull into Don’s Sinclair, I’m greeted by a man ready to start. Quickly I put Bridget into her black suit. “The keys are in it,” I say as I head for the door of the attached convenience store.
Bridget jumps around at the end of the leash. How am I going to buy a cup of coffee with this little clown in tow?
Inside I notice an elderly lady waiting by the door that’s situated between the store and the auto shop.
“Ma’am?” I venture. “Would you be so kind as to hold her leash so I can get myself a cup of coffee?” How can she refuse . . . . oh well . . . .
I zip over to the coffee dispenser and with lightning speed fill a cup with steaming coffee. Hastily I toss in cream and sugar, slap a lid on it, and pay the cashier.
All the while Bridget is hopping around at the end of her leash, tossing a fit, squawking because I’m not standing right next to her!
“Thanks so much,” I say to the nice lady.
She hands me the leash and smiles kindly at my embarrassment.
“Okay, okay. We’re going, Bridget.” I roll my eyes at the cashier and we leave.
“Golly, Bridget. You couldn’t wait for one minute without acting like a maniac?”
We walk around downtown Salina.
I have my camera slung over my shoulder. The morning is very dark. I’m not inspired to take any photos. Bridget and I enjoy the walk anyway.
By the time we return to Don’s Sinclair, the PTV is ready to go. The bill is $42.50 which is comparable to what I’ve paid previously in other garages in other areas of the West.
Well, that’s one thing I can cross off my to-do list . . .
Aspens far, far away on a mountain top. My camera’s 60x zoom is such fun!
Del stops by again!
We continue our conversation from yesterday. I tell him we’re going to leave soon.
“If we don’t, we might be caught in some bad weather,” I explain.
Del agrees. “This here (referring to the good weather we have) will last about another week,” he remarks.
After a pause he adds, “It can be unpredictable around here. I remember one time it snowed on the fourth of July.”
Del laughs at the memory of it.
“Parade was cancelled. People were freezing . . . . on the Fourth of July! ”
That evening I lie in bed looking up at the sky . . . .
Only one star is visible through an opening in the clouds. As I fix my gaze upon it, I recall the journey of the past year. It began with the three of us — Spike, Bridget, and me — crossing Arizona to explore Utah and, after that, Wyoming.
Soon Bridget and I will return to Arizona without Spike.
The single star twinkles in the way that stars often do. “Goodnight, little boy,” I whisper.
Bridget stretches her legs into my side.
“Gosh, Bridget. Do you need to take up the whole dang bed?”
A few adjustments and I curl around her warmth for a good night’s rest.
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