The open road

Wednesday night at the route 66 motel made me feel like we were in a scene from "My Cousin Vinny". We were so tired, but just as we started to drift off to sleep, a train whistle blew just a stone's throw away. Then the room became quiet again. So quiet, in fact, that we became painfully aware of the dripping faucet in the bathroom. Then, just about the time we began to finally drift off to sleep again, the tin on the gas heater heated up enough that it made a loud "pop" that sounded like a gun going off right in the room, and all three of us jumped from the bed. By the time we were calmed down and ready to drift off into la-la land again, the next train went by and the room shook. It was so dark when we got to the motel, that I guess we failed to notice the train tracks that nearly ran past the window. Somewhere around 3:30am, we all fell into a deep sleep from sheer exhaustion. We got up 4 hours later and started driving again.
Surprisingly after such a restless might, Thursday was a great day. We somehow survived the sleep deprivation. Maybe it was all all training that Quilla put us through in her first months. Lol! Regardless, we got to Albuquerque feeling positive and accomplished for the day. We had some Mexican food and got a good nights rest.
On Friday morning as we pulled back onto I40, Raven beeped the horn of the yellow Penske truck at me and waved as I pulled in front of him into our normal caravan formation.
The horn on the yellow truck STUCK!
I felt like I was being followed by the "Little Miss Sunshine" van! Good thing Quilla and I didn't need to push it! what a picture THAT would've been! Eventually the horn stopped. Whew!
We knew we were definitely not in Kansas any more at the next rest stop when a very interesting Jed Clampet-esque character monopolized 20 minutes of our break for gas while telling us about his "grand youngans" We were thoroughly amused and enjoyed listening to his story while Quilla studied his weathered face and twinkling eyes. She also enjoyed the next rest stop where a massive German shepherd named Bullet sauntered over from his post by the vintage gas pump just off route 66 to greet her. She threw her arms around his neck and he gave her a kiss on the nose. Very sweet. A man with a straw hat who was very diligently working on a wad of chew informed me that "Bullet won't hurt 'er none".
"Jed", tobacco man, and Bullet were just about the only living creatures of any kind we saw all day as we crossed over into Texas.
...just lots of open road and the most beautiful, big, full moon I have ever seen.