Denver Road Trip: Getting There

Six months ago I was able to change jobs with one week in between. This afforded me my first real spontaneous vacation. I don’t think I have ever experienced this phenomenon before, at least I haven’t taken such great advantage of the opportunity.

I had given notice at work and discovered that I could use up my vacation and make today my last day. This was a Monday. My wife was in Denver at a work conference until Wednesday night, I had already toyed with the idea of accompanying her in some fashion and decided I couldn’t because of work. I was at my desk wondering how quickly I could wrap up my job and leave. I finally decided that I could take that day as my last, the office would recover. I was as excited as a school girl at the Sadie Hawkins dance upon seeing a lonely Justin Bieber. I left work a little early, rushed home, grabbed a couple changes of clothes, even managed to remember extra underwear, filled the cat’s automatic feeder, quickly comforted her, and headed out.

My plan was to drive to Denver as quickly as possible and then take my time coming back after a couple of days in Denver. I hatched this plan in less than 12 hours, I’ll have you know. Google told me the best route was interstate 35, 80, and 76. So a little after 7 pm on May 7th I was pulled out of the parking garage for points south and west.

Driving south in the evening in summer around here means you are driving into the sun. Sunglasses help, but not much and the window shade is only useful if you can still see the traffic beyond it. A welding mask would be sufficient but may be unworkable safety wise. The sun did finally go down as it does on occasion, it was around Nowhere, Iowa as I recall. I kept driving into the darkness. I drove past the lights of Des Moines and started west. I stopped at a rest area not far beyond to sleep for a while.

As I got comfortable I remembered my only experience sleeping at a rest area was years ago. I was working nights and driving between Duluth and Eau Claire on the weekends. I remember laying down on the grass in the shade of a tree on a bright summer day. It was idyllic.

If you find yourself stopping at a rest area in Iowa, in the middle of the night, in mid-May, you will have a less than idyllic experience. First of all it was cold. It was cold enough that when I was laying in the back of my small car I was thankful for my small down blanket. The blanket presented its own set of problems; I had to tuck myself into the fetal position not only for the cramped back seat but also for optimum blanket coverage. Another thing is that rest areas are loud by nature. Semis are idling 100 yards away, and the busy highway on the other side of them. Also, I was not alone. There were about 10 other cars around me with fogged up windows. Thankfully, the fog means you can’t see what’s going on in there. I was able to sleep for a couple of hours. 2 AM did not find me refreshed, but I was determined to get back on the road.

I drove for what seemed like forever. It was strangely still the middle of the night. I was rethinking my decision to press on at every moment. I was also rethinking the trip itself even though I was too far into it to consider turning around.

I finally decided to stop again and go to sleep. This time I found a gas station just past Omaha and pulled in behind it. I leaned the driver’s seat back and quickly found the sandman. This time I did not wake again until 7:30 AM. The sun was up, and I felt better despite being in the shape of a leaned back car seat, permanently. I stumbled into the gas station, bought a cup of coffee that tasted like a sour patch kid, and moved on.

It being morning now, my mind turned to espresso. I have become crazy for espresso since a New Yorker introduced me to drinking it straight. I can’t drink regular coffee anymore; it tastes flat and watery. I perused Yelp on my little phone. The next promising espresso was to be found in the college town of Lincoln, Nebraska. I set up my MapQuest app and let it take me to the coffee. This detour was a really welcome distraction from thoughts of two very flat states I had to drive across next.

Nebraska, the entire country knows it for corn. I know Nebraska for interstate 80. I-80 is straight as an arrow and flat as a cracker. I guess it is a slightly curved arrow but when you’re driving, it’s hard to tell. This is not so bad, but I got to drive through what felt like a thousand miles of one-lane road construction.

Somewhere around the NB-CO border I was thinking about my cash situation, as in I didn’t have much and I wanted to find an ATM that didn’t charge me a $15 fee just to touch it. I found one in Sterling, CO. Sterling is a prairie town founded by settlers but built by the Union Pacific railroad. I pulled into the bank and got my cash, I briefly wondered if they would take me, a stranger, for a bank robber. My fantasy was short lived as I left the building and did not hear any sirens.

The sky was bright blue, and the day was warm. It was time for a break. I strolled over to a coffee shop a few blocks away I found on my phone. I walked past the Logan County Courthouse, an impressive building surrounded by well kept green grass.

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When I got to the coffee shop, I noticed that it was a very small and had a drive-through. I thought, “Wow! They must not have much seating inside.” When I got to the door, I noticed that there was no seating at all, and it was indeed only a coffee drive-through. It was busy, and I felt rather slighted. I decided to walk back to my car and take my espresso desire and cash elsewhere. I will admit that it was a pretty town but, sadly, here is the one picture I took in Sterling. I kind of want to go back someday, as Wikipedia tells me it was part of the Overland Trail, and they have a park and museum there.

My memories after Sterling are a little hazy. I don’t remember if I found some espresso or not. I did make it to Denver and even found a parking place, where my wife found me. She then guided me to a bed and left me to pass out for 3 hours. She tells me now I stunk and was barely conscious.

That is the story of the first leg of my Denver trip. It got more interesting in Denver and as I came back because I was not training for the Cannonball Run.