The workshop offered me $150 for the Ford. Instead, I went back to the waiting room and put an ad for the car on Craigslist for $500. Within an hour I'd started getting messages from people, and within two hours I had three sets of people turn up to look at it. Twenty seconds after arriving, the second person said "I'll take it." The guy handed over $500 cash, and two minutes later I'd jumped in a cab on the way to Flagstaff airport. The cabbie was a bluegrass guitarist.
Behind the desk of the car rental was an old guy with some class from another time and thick-rimmed glasses to go with it. I secured the keys to a beautiful champagne-coloured 2013 Chevrolet Tahoe V8. And I was on the road again.
It felt really good to pass that 180 mile marker by the side of the road. I was in a very strange mood. Buzzing with happiness because the whole Broken Car Saga was behind me, I had a wallet full of cash, and I was in a pretty sweet ride. I was also over tired and driving in a golden sunlight. The Chev has a typical GM V8: nothing down low and all the power in the top end of the rev range. Basically, the exact opposite of my Ford V8.
I arrived at the Grand Canyon just as the sun was on the horizon. That golden light cast shadows across that amazing place, but I couldn't appreciate it or soak it in completely. The area was cast in a haze and it looked like it was a giant postcard. I just couldn't comprehend it.
The drive to Las Vegas was spectacular. The light at dusk was some of the prettiest I've seen and kept going for hours as I chased the horizon.
Late into the night and without much left in me, the car drove over the peak and revealed a carpet of lights in the valley of Las Vegas. I checked into my room and slept for twelve hours.
The following afternoon I went to the Top of the World restaurant, 107 floors above Las Vegas. I had a steak sandwich for 80 minutes as the restaurant made a full revolution. I drove up The Strip, revelling in the history and film and culture that had occurred there.
Valet is the greatest thing on this planet. You drive up, they give you a ticket, and you walk away. At most hotels you don't pay anything (besides a tip). That night I parked at the Bellagio and walked up and down The Strip. After a few hours of this, I went to the Cosmopolitan hotel for a drink. At the bar I got talking to two redheads, both of which were dancers. One has a show in Las Vegas, the other on Broadway. Nichole Richie was at the bar too.
I decided I couldn't leave Vegas without doing some gambling. I've never been a fan of the pokies, but they still had a few of the old school slot machines with the three rolling wheels and the giant handle. I made $20 off my $5. Being $20 up from the house in Vegas is a good place to be, so I left and had a Graveyard Special at the diner at 4am. A ham steak, two eggs over easy (or easy over, I can never remember), toast, and the shredded potato hash brown-esque mess.
With four hours sleep I checked out and hit the road. In northern Nevada my fuel light came on, but I'd decided to wait until I'd crossed into Utah before filling up as petrol is cheaper there. Well, there are mountains and canyons at the border. I was about a mile from the first off-ramp with a petrol station when my car ran out of gas. Luckily the AAA guy was quick and sympathetic.
The drive itself was spectacular. America is a truly beautiful place, and the engineering that goes into carving these roads through kilometres of solid rock is awe inspiring.
For most of the day the speed limit was 80mph, which meant my cruise control was set on 88mph. You can get away with up to 10mph over the limit without a cop doing anything about it. I learned that early on. Unfortunately the speed drops to 75 at times, and I was too lazy to drop my speed by five. The cop zapped me coming over the ridge of a large hill near the towns of Salem and Benjamin. I'd jumped on the anchors immediately but it was too late.
The rental car didn't have any registration papers in it. Normally a problem, but he let it go after a radio check on the plates. He gave me a written warning, telling me if I get three of these in two weeks then I'll probably get a fine, and we got chatting. I told him about the trip so far and where I was going next, and my family history in the area. He was a really nice guy, and I was thankful for it.
Salt Lake City is much like Geelong, with a sprawling suburbia and a small city centre. I immediately walked around the plaza and gardens of the Latter Day Saints and then visited the Family Search building. Everyone was creepily nice and says hello as they walk past. An Elder showed me how to use their website to find information about my Uncle George. He came over with the Henry Miller Company, which was the original group of settlers, and that impressed the Elder greatly. George has been entered about 300 times into their database by different descendants, but there's not a lot of meaty info about him. The family story is that he was good friends with Joseph Smith and is a big deal, but I couldn't find anything to support that.
I'm actually a big fan of Salt Lake City. I suppose, just like with Las Vegas, I was expecting to not be impressed and the exact opposite happened. It's a cool little city. It also seems to be the Cafe Racer capital of the world.
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