Although it was warm in Zion, like eighty degrees, it was pleasant with a little breeze rustling through all that red rock. Trees here and there. Curved roads that, with my top down, made me feel like I was flying along. Then, I entered Nevada, where the temperature soared and my rag top was up again, saving me from the beating sun if that was possible. My little car couldn't take it when we hit 120-degrees. The car temp gauge shot up, and I got scared. Ranch guy had warned me, "driving across to Las Vegas into the sun is not fun that time of the day... NOTHING between Mesquite and North Las Vegas." And right there, south of Mesquite, car got mega hot, a/c just quit, and I looked around to see ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
My psychic guardian angels called one by one. First ranch guy, "Turn everything off. Your car is fine. It's responding to the conditions. The only thing you'll hit is the Moapa reservation - look for the fireworks sign. But you should see the temperature gauge start dropping right away."
It did.
Daughters called next. Oldest said, "Turn off the a/c. Open your window. I have a theory on this," (a theory, of course, from my anthropologist). Her theory: "We shouldn't have air conditioning."
Sister called as I turned off at Moapa (ranch guy was right again). Checked my fluids but everything was okay. Feeling like I should do something, I bought a $20 bottle of coolant and refilled an inch's worth in the car. No room in the Miata for the gallon so I gave it to a lady in an old station wagon that was held together with duck tape. She said, "Wow. I don't need it now but I will."
I kept the a/c off and zipped past Las Vegas giving up on driving as I hit Primm, Nevada. If you don't know Primm, it's a great stop 44 miles past the Strip. Casinos, a super outlet mall, and get this, my hotel room at Terrible's Primm Valley Resorts (yep, that's the name) was $18.00 - king bed and all. For that, I could afford some time at the slots.
I'm not a gambler but my Mom and Dad were big fans of Vegas. Over the years, I'd meet them there and one or the other would sit me at a slot machine and explain the gig to me. I didn't really listen or care. It was more fun to see my Mom say, "Jim, Jim, come here." Then my Dad would rush over to my Mom playing Video poker. He'd hold her hand while she played the next round. They'd say a prayer and wait to see if she won. If not, Dad would say, "Don't worry, Shirl. Next time." Then he'd add, "I'm out of money. Can I have a twenty?" (Mom was in charge of the cash in Vegas.)
I walked around all the slots at Terrible's looking for my Mom's favorite. It's one where Elvis lights up on top, sings, and plays a song when you win. But I couldn't find it. I picked a quarter machine and then, like I was channeling my parents, all their tutorials came back to me.
"Always play progressive." I don't even know what that means but I started to understand at this slot machine. "If it lets you place 3 bets a play, or 5 bets a play, do them all." That was my Dad talking. So I did it. "If someone near you has been playing awhile without winning and they leave, take that machine." A sour looking lady left a few seats down from me. I moved over quick.
Then my progressive bets started paying off. Fifty bucks down. Won twenty back. Played on. And then, "Bingo!" I won $180.00 big dollars. First time ever for me. I could feel Mom and Dad's pride as they whooshed back up into the clouds. Mom was whispering in the wind to me, "Quit while you're ahead."
Three bucks on a piece of pizza. I headed up to my $18.00 room. It wasn't a great room. But all in all. Not a bad end to the day. Zion to Moapa to Primm. Tomorrow I'd be back in California. But for now, I was sleeping in Primm. Oh, there goes Mom and Dad to the big casino in the clouds.
Marcia's thought for today: You never really travel alone.
Marcia's 'listen to' song for today: Hope There's Someone by Antony & The Johnson's. (Take a moment and listen to this stirring music. Antony's voice is beautifully haunting.)
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