|
The weather was beautiful as I drove north on
Interstate 15. The air was clear, clean and dry and a few white puffy
clouds decorated the sky, which made the long drive a bit more
interesting. The traffic was light and I had plenty of time to get to
Wyoming for my annual “Thunderhead Ranch” Photographic Retreat.
Today I just poked along taking in the vistas from the
land that I had not seen for a long time. I stopped often for refills of
iced tea and food. I drove with the car windows open so I could enjoy
every ounce of the surrounding environment that I could. I fondly
reminisce about the events regarding a trip through this territory with my
wife and children many years ago. I knew one thing for sure; this was a
much different driving experience than trying to deal with the screaming,
stoplight running and finger flipping KMart drivers from southern
California. Today, everything was… just perfect.
The warm dry air blasting through the car caused my
lips to become chapped and extremely irritated. The little town of Heber
City, Utah was just ahead and it was definitely an opportunity to stop and
purchase a supply of lip balm to ease the pain for the remainder of the
trip. I found a grocery store that looked just like the place for me to
make my purchase and relieve the discomfort. The huge parking lot was
jammed with tour buses loading and unloading eighteen million tourists for
their noon feeding at the local McDonald’s Restaurant. “Have you had a
break today”? Do-dah…do-dah.
I finally found a parking spot about fifty yards or so
from the market. I strolled in for the “big hunt” and after fumbling
around for about thirty minutes I managed to find a supply of Blistex
conveniently displayed at one of the checkout counters. I grabbed a tube
and gladly paid the cashier my $3.78 for the pleasure to use this miracle
medication. I pried the tube of Blistex open and applied a generous amount
to my cracked lips while the nice cashier processed my receipt and handed
me my change. I mashed my lips together and smeared the medication around
and added a bit more to make sure I had plenty of protection. I headed
back to my car through the busy parking lot and the swarms of people
racing to McDonald’s for what appeared to be the “Last Supper”. I
smiled and tried to be friendly to the people pushing and shoving their
way through the cars, trucks and buses, but my intention was to get the
hell out of there as fast as possible. It had been a quiet and pleasant
trip so far and my mind was on the retreat and the folks who would rely on
me to generate a good week of photography.
I pulled out onto the boulevard and headed north hoping
I was on the right road to Interstate 80. I looked for signs that would
show me the way, but found none. It was time to ask for directions. I
looked for a locally owned gas station. You know…the kind that is small,
the kind that has two pumps and a couple of flea-bitten dogs hanging out
at the front door… the kind where the owner greets you wearing a
three-day-old greasy shirt and pants and has a bad cigar hanging from the
corner of his mouth. You instinctively know he’s a man who works hard
for his money and is proud of it. He’s glad to help the friendly folk
and quick to tell the self-centered to move on down the road to the new
QuickGas where no one says “thanks” or even a “kiss my ass”. The
old gent lumbered out of the door smiling from ear to ear. I said, “Hi!
Am I on the right road to get to Interstate 80, please?” “Oh yes,”
he said. “Straight on up 40 here will run you right into 80. You’re on
the right road…you can’t miss 80…you’ll run right into it.” I
thanked him and waved goodbye. He tipped his hat and never stopped
smiling.
As I pulled out onto the road to drive north, I glanced
into my rearview mirror to check the traffic behind me. “God!” I
screamed. “What the hell? What the hell is this?” I took another look…it
was unbelievable…it was horrible; my lips, chin and the lower part of my
cheeks were covered with deep reddish-brown goo. I looked like the “Joker”
from the Batman movie on a very bad makeup day. I looked like a circus
clown after a three-day drunk. I grabbed the tube of Blistex. It read, “New
& Improved with A HINT OF COLOR”■ |
