Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“I reckon. What's it supposed to mean?”
“Well, it means very colorful.”
“Why didn't you say that, then?”
“I think people might get a kick out of this, sir.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, sir. Most of these signs are written pretty uncreatively. No imagination.”
“Yeah, well, I don't disagree. Why do you think that is?”
“I don't know, sir. Seems like a wasted opportunity.”
“Opportunity for what?”
“A little flair, sir, and maybe to get people to think about language.”
“I hope they're carrying dictionaries in the glove compartment. What the hell are obse-
quies?”
“Funerals, sir.”
“Oh, jeez.”
This has been as helpful as a tailwind. I've been amusing myself with it for two days
now.
Sunday, August 21, Circle, Montana
Rich Addicks, the photographer sent to join me on the road for a couple of days, showed
me a picture he took a few hours ago. I'm in it, riding away from the camera, wearing
the iridescent vest that keeps me visible to drivers, but not much more than a yellow dot
on a completely empty stretch of highway. The ribbon of road, cutting through a beau-
tifully grassy swath of prairie, is maybe a mile long in the picture, which was taken from
the top of a hill and looks way out in the distance toward the top of another hill, placing
me in the valley between them. It's a striking image of solitude.
