Visited another small town today, got really lost, depended on the kindness of (many) strangers at (many) gas stations speckled around the big beautiful nowhere to get me where I needed to go.
Could not have picked a more perfect day to drive, wish I’d had my camera. And just when I was really getting my dream on about sitting on the front porch of a big white farm house in a cozy sweater with a cup of coffee on my favorite rocking chair, looking out over the cows and horses and goats to the fiery red and gold mountains in the distance, I drove past a ramshackle trailer, EXACTLY like the one in the Dancing Outlaw scene in which they go “muddin”, with about 5 effed-up looking dudes in thermal flannel, a graveyard of cars on the hill, including the burned-out (?) shell of a school bus and fifty mangy dogs and random parts of things, and I kid you not, they stopped what they were doing and stared my car on down the road. I’m sure they’re very nice people. (-ish?)But they freaked me out and gave my little country dream a big record scratch back into reality.