Just left St George, time to recap the previous day while I enjoy this coffee at McDonalds…
So, July is a bad time of the year to be traveling the western states on a motorcycle. Its extraordinarily hot. At 7:00 am it was 80 degrees!
This tent was like a sweat lodge, only I never made contact with my spirit animal. Humidity and heat like this put me into a mild state of panic, which made the blanket over my head to keep the 6am sunshine out of my face especially nightmarish. I see why the military put those potatoe sacks over the heads of all them captive militants. My resolve would fold like a house of cards.
That’s when the first omen made itself know. Gold Bond does not travel well. That shit gets everywhere! Whatever, I got past it. Wonderful invigorating shower ensued. I was back in the adventure rider state of mind. Let’s do this shit.
The place looks charming. I go in. No one on the joint except a thin bald guy on a laptop sitting in a booth. He asks if he can help me in a sort of annoyed tone. I said breakfast? He says “oh no, we close at 9:30, I can grab you a cold sandwich from the deli…” I see sandwiches wrapped in plastic. I ask for a coffee. “Sure, you can drink it out on the porch…” I ask why? “We’re closed. Open up again at 3 o’clock, dinner at 5pm.”
Needless to say I didn’t let the door hit me on the sway out. If I’m not mistaken, this town is right next door to a national park. Tourists stop through here, right?
I go across the street to the grocery/restaurant. Restaurant is closed. Opens at 11am. Wtf? I go into the store. It has less provisions than a 7-11 in a shit neighborhood. I ask the lady if she has food. She looks at me like I’m an alien. She points to the store “just what’s on the shelves.” I ask if she has coffee. She says “Oh, yeah!” I get the slightest of warm feelings until she says… “It’s out there in the shack you saw when you pulled up. I’ll have to make a fresh pot.” I didn’t let the door hit me in the ass on the way out.