Our tent was not only feet away from the river, but also from the train tracks - or it at least felt like it. I guess even if you are miles away from the train tracks but a Rocky Mountain style train with five or so engines goes through and decides to share its presence by blowing the horn, you feel like you just were ran over.
In the next town, which proudly featured a German-American-Mexican restaurant, Pot got debugged and once again sported a clean face - for a few hours, at least. So we headed to the Rocky Mountain
Nat'l Park, where we spent the whole day just chillin' and inhaling the thin air and the scenery. At one rest area we walked to a lake, and when we returned I opened the car windows via the remote. A family was having lunch at a table right next to Pot, and their girl exclaimed "oh how did you do that, with nobody in the car? Can you do that again?" Subsequently I also answered questions about my brakes. I can't
remember ever seeing a 10-year old girl being so interested in a
Further down (or rather, up) in the park I realized that an open sunroof at 12
kilo feet has its downsides, such as burnt arms of the driver. I was slowly but with amazing certainty turning into a red lobster. By the time I put on sunscreen it didn't matter anymore, I am afraid. Essan had no such problems because she was wearing her
windbreaker all the time. I guess sometimes it pays to be a wusslet.
At the exit from the park we saw a group of happy boy elk, and a couple of bighorn sheep. In the town of Loveland we had dinner at a local diner, in which
parking lot were representatives of at least half of the lower 48 states. This may have been the reason why the prices resembled those in the Bay Area. When we arrived in Cheyenne, the final destination for the day, we found gas prices 50 cents lower than those in the SF Bay: $1.85 for premium, and we didn't even look hard.