Grand Tetons to Casper ...and Steak!

So, what’s happening, Chroniclers?

Some of you may remember that yesterday was a travel day, and I just need to ask, How many of you were thinking to yourself, “Self. There’s not gonna be much to report. They’re just driving through Wyoming, which looks much the same as Texas.”

Well, just not the fact. Truth: there was lots of two-lane travel through what started out as really picturesque, mountainous, lush, forest-like views, then morphed into some pretty arid desert landscape stuff. But then comes the part where we need to get some go-go juice. This is where the exciting part starts.

The HB and I were in front, leading the pack yesterday. As the pack leader, there are a few specific responsibilities that fall into your lap. Numero Uno is: make sure nobody runs out of gas. Let me cover that one more time, slowly. Make. Sure. That. No one. Runs. Out. Of. Gas. Got that? Now on its face, that would seem like an easy one, right? Yesterday, got the pucker factor tightening up on that one.

You see, at this point, I’d like you to take a look at a map …now kids, a map is a paper implement that your grandparents used to go places before smartphones, okay? …continuing on, I’d like you all to pull out a map and plot a course between, oh, let’s say for giggles, the Grand Teton National Park and oh, um, Casper, WY.

I mentioned earlier that on our trip, much like the spaceship Enterprise, certain people have jobs that they have adopted because of their very particular set of skills that they have acquired over a very long career. Francois is our Science Officer. He researched and recommended specific equipment needed for the trip, i.e., modes of temporary and local transport, communication devices, power-generating equipment, etc. Then he would break out a whiteboard and explain how important the piece of equipment was and how much power it utilized per hour and —-

“STOP! I don’t need to know how the sausage is made, Francois! Just tell me what to get and where to plug it in, for Pete’s sake!”

Another important member of the crew is the Logistics Officer. The Professor has taken that on responsibility. He came to me the night before last and said, ”I’ve been surveying the flight plan for tomorrow’s mission, and I have noticed an anomaly in the galaxy…”

“What’s that, Professor?” I asked thoughtfully.

“There is nothing between here and there.”

“???”

“No, really.”

After yesterday, I will not doubt the Professor. We drove two hundred and eighty miles and went through two towns. Neither of which had a streetlight, and the total population of both was less than 500. In one town, the sign said population: 10. Not a typo; people, TEN.

But anyway, we get to Casper, and the HB directs us to the local Conoco gas station, and we get off the freeway. Apparently some of us were slightly more anxious about their fuel level than others because panic set in, and we almost had a mutiny. Well, everyone was calm except for one.

Francois, who got off the freeway in the fourth position, started screaming loudly and somewhat shrill. “ME FIRST!! ME FIRST!!” Drove in a serpentine fashion around two of the rigs in front of him, just barely missing the rear end of the Centurions coach, and made a right turn down the frontage road, which by the way, was the wrong direction on a one-way street. Meanwhile, Mrs. Francois, seated in the co-pilot’s seat, had pulled both her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes tightly, forgetting totally about the safety of her once-valued emotional support animal, her stuffed zebra, Stephanie, who dropped to the floor between her and Mr. Francois. And with screeching, smoking front brakes, stopped at the pump.

Wow. Geez. Ok, I think there is enough gas for all of us, Francois.

It was at this point, the New Guy jumped out of his rig, stood before Francois, assumed that superhero pose again with his fists balled on his waist, and just shook his head back and forth in disapproval.

After we’d all filled up, and drove the 5 more miles to the overnight spot. I slid into my site, next to the New Guy.

“Hey,” the New Guy said to me. “You know what?”

“No, what?”

“I’m getting a steak tonight.’

Apparently, all of the Wyoming Beef signs along the roadway all the way to Casper had worked their magic.

So, Steak it was.

Except, have you noticed that I’ve added “One band, one sound” to my sign-off? It was a little saying that I heard when we first started. Someone said it so that everyone knew, “No worries, you’re not holding us up. We go as a group.”

Well, apparently, that is of course and when steak is mentioned. Because that went right out the window and changed to “every man for himself” when the New Guy brought up the subject. Everyone scrambled for their cars and left the Halls to fend for themselves.

The HB & I, the McCrocs behind us, pulled up to the Halls’ rig, they jumped in, and we advised that we were all together and ready to roll.

Unbeknownst to us, everyone else was already at the restaurant seated. By the time we got to the spot, the Professor and the Centurion were seated across from one another, fork in one hand, steak knife in the other, with their napkins tucked in their collars, grinning at each other.

One band, one sound (except when steak is mentioned).

Drink ‘em if you got ‘em

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