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Home is Where Freon Is

 I love the word, "wended", so we wended our way home.  We went slowly, by an indirect route.

On earlier trips, we had driven down through California, and up through Las Vegas, once skirting the east sides of King Canyon and Yosemite, which we had seen from the west, but this time we decided to follow the Columbia upriver and turn southeast toward Idaho and Utah.  It was a bit longer, but it had the ultimate virtue of avoiding Las Vegas.  It is not difficult to get through Las Vegas.  It is, in fact, more work to get through Salt Lake City, but it is difficult to decide to go through Las Vegas.

That brought us near Zion, to which we shall return another time.  This time, we were ready to go home.  Going north from Tucson toward Las Vegas means crossing the Colorado River near the Hoover Dam and Lake Mead.  Farther east, where we were going, we crossed the Colorado at the other end of the Grand Canyon, near another dam:  Glen Canyon and Lake Powell.

"I would like to stop at the Cameron Trading Post on the Navajo Nation," Mari said.  "I am certain they have something I need."

"Good!", I replied.  "Me, too!  Lunch."

I had a taco salad, on fry bread instead of a corn or wheat tortilla.  Each time I try fry bread, I sing again the praises of things fried in lard.  Things like me.

The restaurant ceiling was stamped tin, not ancient but, in fact, fairly recent, and it was amazing.  It was not as amazing as the 43 million necessities on display in the rooms next door, but a wonder, still.

We made it home, that day.  The air conditioner had died, but it was soon repaired, at least for the nonce.  The service man said, "Good luck, and God bless you, for all the good that will do!"

Comments

  1. Zion is on my list of places sorta within driving distance that we want to visit but so far haven't. And we also had to repair our AC a couple weeks ago -- adding freon and a new fan blade. But the motor is still good. (We apparently have a bit in common.)

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