Road Trip, Detour.

        I dreamed N and I were tooling along the 215 when we came to a closed section. The detour took us out of the cone zone and onto a section of roadway that neither of us recognized. It was wide and smooth. (No washboard!) After we’d driven a few miles, we realized we were the only vehicle on the road in either direction. I started looking for an exit, as I suspected that we missed our detour sign and were now really lost.

        After a couple of more miles, we noticed that the desert foliage was becoming thicker, and the purple leaves and very orange blossoms didn’t really look very earth-like. Soon we found ourselves at an exit, which I took.

        Ours was the only wheeled vehicle on the road of the small town. Some floated on cushions of air, some rode on legs and some on tracks. The traffic signals were a single instrument that hung in the center of each intersection. Fortunately I was well behind a line of vehicles and we were able to figure out what the symbols meant. I was looking for something that would be a service station, in hopes of finding some directions, though I suspected the directions we needed would not be available.

        Nan was glad we’d stopped for gas and groceries earlier. “At least it’s not all pink,” she observed.

Ad astra per technica,

FF