Thread by @wigwam, In 1986, I moved to Omaha and started working for the World [...]

In 1986, I moved to Omaha and started working for the World Herald. In 1988, I moved back to Denver. I worked multiple jobs, including security at the Marriott where I was cursed out by Chaka Khan once. Also I flipped off Vice President Bush. To his face. Standing next to a cop.

Eventually I got a job as a police dispatcher at a large metro police department. It came with vacation time. One day, it dawned on me that I should use it. I had no money, but oh well. I had my truck and gas was cheap. I threw my USMC sleeping bag in my truck and hit the road.

I drove west into the Colorado Rockies, just following my nose. At one point, I ended up on a forest service road that had been a narrow gauge railway, tracks long gone. As I climbed it got narrower. My Tonka was 2 wheel drive. Eventually I found myself stuck.

Inches from the side of the mountain that had been blasted away, driver's side inches from the edge of the road. Hundreds of feet steep drop off. I opened the truck door and could not put my foot down. My heart was in my throat. I had to slowly back down that grade.

It was a harrowing experience. But, I made it. You'd think it would have taught me a lesson...

I took a different path and continued on, up into the Rockies, climbing towards the Continental Divide.

I should add that although it was July, in the Colorado Rockies, that means little; I still ran into plenty of snow and ice. My poor little pickup was not equipped for that. I did the best I could around the switchbacks and up towards a pass. I think it was Squaw Pass.

One thing about high altitude passes if you're driving a truck with a carburetor; don't turn off the engine. Not enough oxygen to start again easily. Fortunately I was over the pass and coasted downhill until I could bump start it.

By this time, I was thinking I'd head towards Four Corners, maybe stop by Mesa Verde and look at the Cliff Dwellings.

On the Western Slope of Colorado, you see verdant valleys and big ranches and incredible mountain scenery. I saw a Bald Eagle, it flew the same direction as I.

I drove through mining towns and tourist traps. Ate when I got hungry. At night, I unrolled my sleeping bag in the bed of my truck and stared up at some of the brightest biggest stars I'd ever seen. The air at night was so cold and so clean, it was like drinking cold water.

The mind clears under conditions like that. The senses open up. You hear everything, every chirp and click and shuffle of nature. After your eyes adjust, you see and hear the pine trees swaying, the clicking leaves of the Aspen. When you finally drift off, you dream in color.

There were no cell phones then, and no GPS. AM radio and cassette tapes were my companions. Radio wasn't talk radio then, either. As I got closer to Four Corners, I started picking up Spanish and Native American stations. I knew a few words of Spanish; nothing else. I listened.

I drove by a ranch with a split rail fence around the horses' corral. It was snowing, and the horses were at the feeding trough. Steam was rising from them. Then, one head came up, with a magnificent set of antlers. An elk, among the horses, eating with them. It was amazing.

As I got closer to Mesa Verde, it began to snow harder. By the time I arrived, they had closed the park.

Side note: a year later I tried again, and the park was closed due to a wildfire. Hmm.

So I sailed down into the Four Corners area. Stopped at the place where you can stand in four states at once. Got back in the truck and off I went.

Arizona was not cold and snowing. On the contrary, it was hot as the hammered hinges of hell. Beautiful in it's own way, with wind-carved rock and canyons and desert.

I stayed off the highways, taking state and county roads instead, crisscrossing back and forth.

I remember getting tired near Mexican Water and thought maybe I'd try a motel so I could get a shower in the morning. There was a huge bonfire in the parking lot, hundreds of drunken teens, and then, gunfire. I kept driving.

I slept in my truck bed in a cow pasture and woke with a start because a cow had wandered over and put its face about a foot from mine. Scared the crap out of me. Ended up finding another place to sleep.

Eventually, I crossed over into California. I remember going though the equivalent of border control on some itty bitty little bridge over the Colorado River. They were making sure I wasn't bringing fruits or vegetables into the state. I wonder if they still do that?

I found myself in the Mojave National Preserve. This photo was taken near Nipton, which was a ghost town then. My apologies, earlier I said it was Arizona.

I had some serious bad vibes when I started driving down this desert road. Sand and scrub brush I can deal with. Abandoned car after abandoned car was freaking me out. When I saw the sign warning me that the road was unmaintained and that the county wasn't responsible, I left.

I went back the way I came and continued west. Eventually, I got to Joshua Tree and the Twentynine Palms, but I'll stop for now.

Hope you enjoyed.

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