Oct 6 '17 at 5:26
I was on a cross country motorcycle trip, by myself crossing Utah. It was 106F. A small cloud appeared, then expanded in half an hour to cover the sky. It started raining. 3 drops would fill a teacup. Warm rain. Then the lightning came. Snapping and popping all around me, the water getting deeper on the road. Down in a valley I saw the Border Inn, its lights on, a welcoming beacon to a terrified rider. The lightning was chasing me, quite literally, down the road. I just accellerated, figuring getting under their metal awning would provide some cover. As a cyclist, I was the tallest object on the road. Anyway, clearly I made it. The staff had watched me approach. They applauded when I landed. Room sold. Bingo. Decent. On a landscape that has been unchanged for 5 million years. Half the place is in Nevade (slots) the other in Utah (rooms). Like something out of a B western. Creaky screen doors, squeaky sign swinging in the wind. Once common, now exceedingly rare.
