The mustard yellow truck had been trudging through the cold wintery air for 3 days and it had finally arrived in its final destination. It had been through hell and back, but it had finished its quest.
“Hey at least you’ll get to see the snow now bud!” said my Dad.
“I suppose you’re right but we could’ve always just gone to the mountains back home.”
“Just give this place a try, son. Maybe you’ll learn to love it.”
“Yeah, I highly doubt that one, but I appreciate the effort, Dad.”
In that moment we were approaching North Platte and I felt my stomach begin to shift. I’m from California, land of the beach bums and hippies. I’m not used to places like Nebraska, land with cows and big trucks. The drive here was odd enough, starting with cities and gradually declining in population as we drove the mustard mobile across the country. I had never had to even sit in a car for that long, and I’ve experienced 5 pm traffic. The thing that had scared me the most by far was the people though. I hadn’t seen a single person that looked like me since the trip began. The only human interaction I had in the past 3 days had been with either truck drivers or really scary people that traveled the country in trailers regularly.
Here we were, in a foreign land, an unknown territory. I had never seen so many pairs of cowboy boots in my whole life, give or take the actors at Knott’s Berry Farm. Regardless, this is where life had taken me, to a cold desolate state known as Nebraska. I remember as a
“Hey at least you’ll get to see the snow now bud!” said my Dad.
“I suppose you’re right but we could’ve always just gone to the mountains back home.”
“Just give this place a try, son. Maybe you’ll learn to love it.”
“Yeah, I highly doubt that one, but I appreciate the effort, Dad.”
In that moment we were approaching North Platte and I felt my stomach begin to shift. I’m from California, land of the beach bums and hippies. I’m not used to places like Nebraska, land with cows and big trucks. The drive here was odd enough, starting with cities and gradually declining in population as we drove the mustard mobile across the country. I had never had to even sit in a car for that long, and I’ve experienced 5 pm traffic. The thing that had scared me the most by far was the people though. I hadn’t seen a single person that looked like me since the trip began. The only human interaction I had in the past 3 days had been with either truck drivers or really scary people that traveled the country in trailers regularly.
Here we were, in a foreign land, an unknown territory. I had never seen so many pairs of cowboy boots in my whole life, give or take the actors at Knott’s Berry Farm. Regardless, this is where life had taken me, to a cold desolate state known as Nebraska. I remember as a