So Much Nothingness

The word nothing seems to negate a negative tone.  But it isn’t always bad.  A story I like to read to my students around St. Patrick’s Day is called ­Fiona’s Luck.  As the story goes, in Ireland, luck used to fly around free and people could gather some when they needed it.  Then, the leprechaun king caught all of the luck and locked it into giant trunk and kept it for himself.  The people of Ireland suffered catastrophically (obviously this was when the potato famine hit) until Fiona decided she should do something about it.  She pretended to have lots of luck by disguising how many eggs and potatoes she had gathered and milk she had milked from her cow.  The king became outraged and called her to his kingdom.  He was certain she had stolen the luck, but she said she had none.  He made a deal with her that he would play some games with her to see how much luck she indeed had.  He promised at the end to grant her a wish of equal value to the luck she possessed.  He soon discovered she had no luck at all which pleased him greatly, especially since that meant the wish he would grant her would be nothing.  But clever Fiona wished for a hole, a hole in the great trunk, so that luck could once again spill out freely over Ireland.  Nothing isn’t always a bad thing.

 Today, I drove through a whole lot of nothing and I absolutely loved it.  In Reno, I stopped to get an oil change, disappointed that this oil change facility did not double as an espresso bar, before heading into the desert.  I filled up on gas, water and some ice and exited the interstate onto two-lane roads.

The roads I was on today were long and flat and the only trees were around homes that were in small oasises in the middle of the long expanse of desert.  The desert was beautiful though: all colors in the orange hue with whites and reds painted in lines across the tall peaks.  The flat lands were covered in desert plants; not cacti, but small dry bushes.  It occurred to me that Crayola makes a forest green, but never once have I seen a desert green, and well, I believe it deserves its own color. 

 Because the roads were so long and flat, I was able to see for what seems like ions, right up until the bottom of the surrounding mountains.  At one point, I measured it after topping a hill: I was able to see twelve miles of road ahead of me.  Twelve.

The town signs in Minnesota gave population number.  The town signs along this roadway gave elevation level.  Despite the seemingly flat nothingness, I was shocked to see just how far I was actually climbing.  The highest area I reached was 6,000 feet about sea level, but most areas averaged 4,000.  I did not expect that sort of height in a desert, but I guess when you are in a desert in the middle of the country, surrounded by mountains, that can happen.

Warning signs were unlike ones in my neck of the woods, such as signs for big-horned sheep, free-range cattle, horses, donkeys, no gas stations for over 100 miles, major deer and even low-flying aircrafts.  This last one would not see as humorous if it weren’t for the area.  Area 51 to be exact.  Much of my drive was on the Extraterrestrial Highway, and the handful of people along the route, had lots of fun with this title.  I passed Little A’Le’Inn complete with wonderful signage, a road sign about E-T Fresh Jerky and giant metal aliens.  It was quite a hoot to see, and as I drove through so much nothingness, I decided it might have been the perfect place for aliens to land: no one would have ever known they were there!

 For a long time I saw no wild life whatsoever, not even birds dotted the power lines.  But finally, after many miles, I did begin to see some.  I saw a donkey, some horses, lots of cows, crows, a few LBBs (little bity birds), big horned sheep, a coyote (I think, I guess it could have been a fox), lizards crossing the road and jack rabbits.  I was a bit disappointed not to see any jack rabbits with horns.

Like the lights of Las Vegas seem to appear out of nothingness, so too do the lights of Mesquite, Nevada.  This MUCH smaller version of Las Vegas was home to lights that nearly blinded me after driving through dark nothingness.  I was able to get a very inexpensive room at a casino because I guess they thought I’d gamble… they will not find “nothing” to be as enjoyable as I found it to be.

Miles traveled: 601

Hours in the car: 11

Gallons of gas purchased: 21.3 (I filled up every chance I got!)

States: California and Nevada

Best Line:

While waiting to check in at the casino, an older man was telling me how young he looked for his age of 82 (he did).  Then he said, “When you’re 21, you’ll be a beautiful woman.”