Greetings from the “Land of Enchantment”..New Mexico where the state plant and the winter weather are both pronounced the same; “Yucca.”
Left Fountain Hills, Arizona on Monday knowing full well we were probably going to encounter bad weather on our route home but the first several hundred miles were mostly dry roads and sunshine interrupted occasionally by a frightening dark wall of clouds filled with intense snow. But it only lasted for a few nerve wracking miles..and then we’d break free into the clear again. I suppose we were lulled into a false sense of security believing we must be cleverly sidestepping the storm systems..or maybe the forecasters were exaggerating the severity of the situation. After all, these Southwest people may know all about handling heat and dust but they’re wusses when it comes to dealing with the slightest amount of snow and cold. This is nothin’, we thought..until we drove into a dark wall outside of Albuquerque and never came out. The snow started coming down in gentle flakes..then turned to hard pellets that bounced off the windshield like gravel. Then the flakes turned huge, looking like white leaves floating down from an albino cottonwood. Still, the highway though town wasn’t too slippery so I suggested we press on. Dumb idea. A half hour later, after passing by three accidents on Interstate 40 in the high country just east of Albuquerque (the same area where we were in a two hour traffic jam on the way out) it was pretty clear that if I didn’t find a motel soon, Linda was going to pull the arm rest right off the door. But what’s out here? Then she spotted the sign that says, “Moriarity 13 Miles.” Fortunately, at the last rest stop, I’d grabbed one of those traveler’s magazines that have motel discount coupons inside..but more importantly they also have motel phone numbers. Linda got on the cell and we were able to book a room and even got the discount. So, here we are in Moriarity, New Mexico which is called the “Crossroads of Opportunity” because of its perfect location in the heart of the state along the historic Route 66, “The Mother Road.”
For Linda and me, though, it’s simply a port in the storm as we’re holed up in the Super 8 until at least Wednesday. Staying another night was the right thing to do. We’re close enough to the interstate to see that it’s mostly truck drivers who are brave or foolish enough..to challenge that slippery slab a quarter mile away.
We’re fine waiting it out. There’s adequate heat in our room, a TV that gets more than three channels, internet access, a functioning ice machine and a half bottle of hooch in the suit case. Plus there are couple fast food joints within walking distance..so we’ll survive.
Hmmm, why is it I’m not sensing much sympathy from you folks back home? Could it be that while we’ve been golfing and having outdoor patio parties in Phoenix you’ve been shoveling and shivering the entire month we’ve been gone?
Now, now, vengeance doesn’t become you.