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Show flfffffl' in the middle of nowhere, on a road that people only traveled if they were going to Lake Powell or to visit grandparents. After what seemed an eternity, eter-nity, a passer-by saw our need and promised to call the local mechanic when he got to Green River, some 35 miles away. We didn't even dare sit in the truck, just in case it fell over, so we explored the fields and sagebrush sage-brush and secretly wondered if this omen meant anything. And yes, we took pictures. The tow truck finally came to our rescue with the mechanic's mechan-ic's promise to check out the problem first thing in the morning. morn-ing. We were then dropped off at the only motel on that side of town, Robber's Roost. All I can say is "It's a good thing we still had stars in our eyes." April is just barely before be-fore the tourist season and not only were there no cars, jeeps or 4-wheelers to rent, most of the stores were closed and there was no theater. We walked the entire length of Green River to eat and walked all the way back to the motel, just to turn around and walk back. We ate at the one restaurant and one cafe open and marveled that anyone actually lived in what surely was a ghost town. Luckily the garage was across the road and when we checked in with the mechanic bright and early, he gave us two options. The first was to order an axle from Salt Lake to be delivered by truck in two or three days, or two, we could drive their truck to Grand Junction, Junc-tion, Colorado and pick up an axle there. He was dead serious and I think we convinced him that we thoughtfully considered both choices. I know you must be wondering which option we chose! I had never been on that stretch of 1-70, but I didn't complain about the barren landscape or plethora of prairie prai-rie dogs running across the freeway because we were in a vehicle that was taking us to an actual city with stop lights and people. We picked up the axle, saw a movie, had dinner at a nice restaurant, then drove back to Green River and our honeymoon suite. It had been a wonderful diversion. Check-out was 11 a.m. and so we took our luggage to the truck and once again walked the street (that is not plural) until early afternoon, visiting the one tourist store that was open. When we finally final-ly got on the road, we laughed at our plans gone awry and determined de-termined this was not an omen, but proof we could handle bumps in the road. Our new pseudo-home would be the parking lot at EA Miller, Blue Ribbon Beef in Hyrum, across the road from the plant where the cattle were processed. I say this often, that it was a very good thing I was in love and had no clue what lay ahead of me. Ignorance truly was bliss. like a couple of red necks going go-ing camping. He had planned a romantic honeymoon with a few surprises, like sleeping in the camper the second night in Wellington and going to church the next morning. Was there a shower? Can't remember, but we did sleep in the church parking lot and emerged like it was a motel. (He was subtly preparing me for the next three years!) After church we were once again on our way, this time to a bed and breakfast in Capital Reef, an adventure I looked forward for-ward to. From 1-70, we turned south towards Hanksville, when about 20 miles down the road, we felt a violent shake and heard metal scraping on the pavement. The truck was listing list-ing to my side and at first we thought it was a flat tire. Rodger's assessment was not encouraging, especially since it was Sunday and this was before cell phones could roam farther than three feet. The axle had broken, literally owned was in a storage unit, the house was rented to my best friend, and after a short honeymoon we would embark on a grand adventure. It hadn't really dawned on me that we were now both homeless, but that reality was close at hand. Our wedding announcement announce-ment said: "Rodger asked if I wanted to play trucks with him, and I said yes." It was a subtle hint that bur "house" would be very small and we didn't need appliances, towels, stuff or things. Some thought we were nuts while others secretly secret-ly envied our fairy-tale journey. jour-ney. Of course no one in their right mind would actually do what we were about to do, but it sounded romantic. All the congratulations at the reception recep-tion were probably "hope-this-doesn't-come-back-to-bite-you" wishes from justifiable skeptics. Rodger's trusty Silverado, with our home on its back, was our only means of transporta- , tion, and so we headed south by Geri Taylor Rodger and I survived the receptionconstruction and upon leaving my brother's home, realized we hadn't eaten since noon. Tired, foot-sore, and very hungry, we stopped at Village Inn and had breakfast at 1 1 p.m., staying there for at least an hour, talking, laughing laugh-ing and just glad the day was almost over. And then it was the next day. Almost everything we |