Let Your Heart Drive (6 page)

“There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.”

—George Carlin

This morning
,
I sleep in an hour longer than I planned to, the night was a little colder and lonelier. But I stuff those emotions in my mental baggage claim to pick up later, because today, is a new day, and I’m heading two hours north, to Colorado. I hit publish on my video blog, grab my suitcases and check out. More or less ten minutes later my cell goes nuts, my dad, my sister, a few friends, but I don’t reply to them just yet, because I need to have some miles behind me. If I can get to Farmington I’ll stop for something to eat, but I quickly start to realize the closer I get the more I debate with myself.

The landscape through here is captivating and definitely tempting. I want to hike the badlands, check out the Bisti/De-na-zan wilderness and drive up to the airport that sits on a bluff, but I don’t have enough time to do it all and make it back to the Mother Road by tonight.

After I inhale another sub sandwich for breakfast and snag a handful of brochures, I set off north of Farmington. It isn’t long until I find Kokopelli’s Cave Bed and Breakfast, I have to snap a few shots of the unique house-like dwellings carved into the beautifully layered sandstone cliffs. The actual Bed and Breakfast has the most amazing view of all the four corners in the area, which overlooks the La Plata river valley, and the four states-Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado and I can just imagine the mesmerizing scene at sunset. I don’t waste any more time and return back to my goal.

In one hour and twelve minutes I’m worming my way to Mesa Verde, my heart’s pounding with excitement. Chelsea and my dad are going to choke on envy. We’ve always wanted to vacation here, see these strangely abandoned cliffside villages, the remains that the Anasazi people left so long ago, and walk on the very ledges with all the rock art images permanently touched by the past. Each area is sectioned differently. First the Cliff Palace, which we’re directly and safely led to by a local park ranger guide who begins to explain the details of each room. About how many people once lived here, the layout of the dwellings and tries ever-so-politely in answering every sporadic question from one very intrusive tourist.

A middle-aged woman, she’s dressed in khakis, a flowery button-up blouse and an enormous sun hat and she’s not alone. I’m assuming the twenty-something year old man standing next to her, wearing tacky gold tinted framed sunglasses and loose fitting blue jeans is not her boyfriend, but her son. And by the looks of it he’s not happy being here. 

We take a step and the galling woman asks, “The word Anasazi I heard means ancient enemies.”

“Well, around here some don’t perceive it that way, they call it people of the past,” he enlightens, nodding his head to the side encouraging us follow him into the next area. 

“And the people were not very tall, were they?” she queries the obvious running her hand along the small sized doorway.

“No, they were not, the Ancestral Puebloan’s height averaged around five foot to five, five. And their life span was only thirty-two to maybe thirty-four
years—
”

“Is that because so many fell off the edge here? I mean to tell you…just look at how high up we are!” The frustrating raspy, prodding tone raises a notch as she points down below. “It’s no wonder they all just disappeared.”

She smiles a gigantic smile at me like I would immediately agree to her admission. Her elbow bounces lightly against mine and before I know it she’s telling me how she and her son are visiting their family in Durango. I’m introduced to Miles, shortly after she remembers to tell me hers, Rita, Rita Pepperidge from Topeka, Kansas. She’s one of five girls and they’re all scattered across the US. I’m overwhelmed with family tidbits and Miles recent job loss. I keep my eyes far away from making any contact with Miles, I don’t want him to feel like he should crawl under a rock and hide. His mother had no qualms with laying it all out there, she’s definitely overly friendly, but I can see she cares for her son. Which is why he’s enduring this tour/trip with his mother. To refocus and take a break from all the stress, funny in a way because it’s kind of what I’m doing.

“So sugar, is this your first time here?” she asks glancing back at me.

As we make our way from one room down to a Kiva I steady myself on the old wooden ladder and answer, “Yes, it is. I’ve always wanted to
see—
”

“Have you thought about taking the Twilight tours here?”

“Uh, no.”

“You should, I would highly consider it, because there’s not so many pesky people and the best part is it’s just after dinner and the ranger dresses up.”

I scrunch my brows together. “Dresses up? Like what?”

“They embody one of the characters like Al Wetherill, one of the men that first discovered the Cliff Palace. It really gives you the full experience, you know?”

“Oh…sounds really great, but I have to get back on the road after this tour though my
sister is—
”

“Nonsense, dear. Miles and I would love to have you join us this evening.” Her son, who hasn’t spoken a word other than a grunt when she introduced him, eyes me. Eyes me through his thin shaded sunglasses like I’m another miserable pothole in the road. I’m a girl who can take the hint, he wants this over just as badly as I do. Some people you can just take in small doses, any more than that you’re likely to overdose.

By the time we weave ourselves back to where the tour had started my phone pings with a text message.

How’s the world treating Sinead O’Conner? -Trey

I laugh and text back.

Not sure about her, but Sin’s never been better. You?

I’m good, how’s the trip? -Trey

I’ve taken a detour from Route 66 for the moment.

I wait and he doesn’t reply, but while I slip past Rita and her son, I whisper, “It’s my boyfriend, he’s meeting me here, gotta go, it was nice meeting you.”

I leave in the opposite direction from them and practically hideout by a couple of parked cars, praying they don’t spot me. I can’t believe I’m doing this,
again
. Poor Trey’s my virtual escape goat every time I need a way out. My phone rings scaring me half to death and I almost scream out loud. I suck in a breath and answer, “Yeah?’ I’m still whispering and peeking around a minivan.

“Sin?”

I know that voice. The voice that makes me want to drop everything I’m doing and pay mouth-drooling attention to.

“
Trey
?” I ask with a leery hint in my tone. What made him call me? Did I say something that made him freak out? Maybe he’s worried about the rental, I did say I wasn’t on the designated route.

“Is everything okay?’ His tone isn’t automated, it’s more sincere.

“Yeah, sure everything’s great. Look, the car
is—
”

“I’m not worried about the car, where are you?”

“Are you at work? Because you sound different…” I reply and dodge behind another van when I see Miles and Rita entering their car.

“I’m off today, where are you and what do you mean I
sound
different?”

I stifle my laugh and retort, “You know, just different, and you’ll never guess where I’m at.” I pause a breath and listen to his own muffled laugh. “Okay, I’m at Mesa Verde,” I reveal impatiently and wait for his response.

“In Colorado?”

“Yes, in Colorado and the view…is stunning!”

“You don’t say…” he quips, he doesn’t believe me. I take a quick shot of the immediate scenery and the Hybrid, just so he knows it’s safe and hit send, hopeful his phone can receive a pic while he’s on his cell.

“Whoa…You weren’t kidding and you’re right the scenery is pretty amazing.”

I double check over my shoulder making sure my new friends don’t pop up out of nowhere and surprise me. I settle my camera back into its rightful carrying case and hop inside. Quickly, I’m reminded how the summer heat and the littlest jaunt, like through the Cliff Palace can zap the energy right out of me.

“Hey Trey, um…is there any way I can turn off this GPS display and sound without messing up the system?”

“Is it built into the dash?”

“Yeah, like the radio.”

“Do you have a map?”

“That’s how I’ve made it this far.”

“Good. Those GPS’s can be a royal pain. Just the other night I got a call from a guy that decided to program an address for an ostrich ranch somewhere in Nevada. Anyway, he called me because the GPS led him straight into a sand dune and he got his rental stuck.”

“You’re kidding me? And why would anyone go off looking for an ostrich ranch in the middle of the night anyway?”

“Nope. No joke, it’s true. I remember him saying, ‘I can see the lights from the highway, but I don’t know where I’m at.’  It took me three freakin’ hours to get a tow truck to find him and we had to use latitude and longitude to do it. So, I’m kinda glad to hear you’re using a map.”

“Well, I’m not out looking for an ostrich ranch,” I wisecrack back and start fiddling with the traffic menu thing. “Okay, I’m in the navigation menu now, so…?”

“Okay, just disable the read-out traffic messages, generally the default settings for the traffic mode is to ‘show’ you or tell you, disable that and then go to the drop down menu, scroll past highway info and hit next option.”

“Oh, I see, I think I have it! Thank you…Roadside,” I laugh.

“I’m just Trey today,” he chuckles back and adds, “Tomorrow I’ll be your friendly roadside agent.”

I unfold my map on the steering wheel and make a guess about how long it’s going to take me. “Well
Trey today
, it looks like I’m in for an eight hour drive ahead of me. I have to make it back to Route 66 by 1:00 p.m. and into Amarillo, Texas before my bedtime or I’ll probably have a Texas lawman hunting me down.”

He chuckles low and clears his throat. “Well that sounds pretty serious, Sin. I guess I better let you go then.” He nails a good ol’ boy country accent perfectly, making me grin like I’m knee deep in love.

It’s true, I love the sound of his voice and it’s kind of strange and romantically regretful that we hit it off so well, we don’t expect anything from each other, just someone to shoot the breeze with and I like that. Simple and fun.

“All right, I’ll probably stop in the next hour or so, you know…to refuel,” I ramble out not sure why I’m stating my whereabouts and plans. Maybe, I’m just hoping he’ll text or call later.

“All right, be safe, and Sin?”

“Yeah?”

“Looks like your luck’s changing.”

I start to reply softly, “
Yeah…I think so too
.” But he ends the call before I have a chance to say it. 

I’ve been driving for about three solid hours, and there’s nothing other than the red cliffs to the right of me and sagebrush to the left. Passing through Laguna, New Mexico makes me feel like I’m in one of those True Detective TV episodes with Mathew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson.

Like you’re in an abandoned, creepy, isolated place with absolutely no one to hear you scream if you needed to. I turn my music up trying to run away the unnerving feeling. Nothing for miles and miles as I weave through the old lonesome route and quickly approach Dead Man’s Curve. As I drive farther away I lose the sense of the spookiness and appreciate the scenery more. A small river nestles with an old railroad which sits off in the distance and out of the side mirror I catch a herd of wild horses romping around in the river basin only about a hundred yards away.

I hit pause on my camera mounted on the dash and pull off to the side of the road. The sweet scents from the semi-arid grassland and distinctness of sagebrush overwhelm me and I actually find it comforting. It’s pure and freeing, just like the horses thundering across the vast open land. I make my way closer feverishly snapping shots of a pair, one’s a speckled grey horse and the other a tawny brown, both are majestic and providential.

Step by step I squelch the distance between us and kneel down, switching to video, and record them standing a few feet from me. I coo to them, making god-awful clicking/whistling noises, hoping one of them will dare a glance my way. I’ve never been this close to a horse before, let alone a herd of them. Unexpectedly the beautiful grey one shakes out its long wild silvery mane and meets my eyes and I’m suddenly skittish. I’m nothing compared to these giant awe-inspiring beasts who live self-ruling and unbroken with no one to tell them how to live their life or enforce a code of principles someone else believes. I hold my cell up more capturing everything I can, the way they move, the way their ears responsively twitch, listening to the lightest wind whisper only to them.