...and all you get is this lousy photo of a dragonfly...
Actually, I took dozens of photos, but they are all for work so I'm not putting 'em up for a while.
So here are the stats: sunburn (unpleasant, not painful), not enough food, 394 miles total, 28 miles per gallon, heat, dirty air, fatigue.
The gas mileage was my fault. I ran Interstate 5 at 90-plus mph wherever possible, and sometimes faster. I've done the drive more often than I've had hot meals (or so it seems) and the only thing that makes it tolerable is getting it over with.
The destination was as much a hellhole as I feared. But the people I had to deal with were actually nice, and very cooperative. So cooperative, in fact, that my concern about having to a) stay out there tonight or b) make the drive again tomorrow did not materialize.
Won't be a hard story to write, though I have to delay a few days until I make email contact with a couple of fairly important people and get some questions answered.
I was not thrilled when I got home, thanks to fatigue, another day with an empty mailbox -- I lie; there was a bill and a solicitation from the Auto Club -- and my obese neighbor stomping up and down outside my window yammering on her cell phone. She's still at it, and her conversations are damn dull.
One thing that bothers me: I have been immersed in this particular scene -- the event that carried me into the Godforsaken Central Valley -- for many years. In fact, I first made similar (though usually shorter) treks with my father beginning in the late 1950s, and I find my interest slipping away. Not good, as it now forms part of my livelihood.
But what the hell. I now have two whole days to relax before hopping a plane for Seattle.
You have to take your pleasures, pathetic as they are, where you find them, I guess.
15 hours ago