I’ve only stopped at South Lake Tahoe for the night, and so I do a drive-by, by the shore to watch the wave runners and look out at the mountains and the blue blue waters. and then a ride up to the overlook at Emerald Bay. The road climbs to a knife edge, the roadside dropping most precipitously to water on both sides. I crawl along at fifteen miles per hour just to get a chance to feel the thrill.
Back to South Lake Tahoe, I go looking for a cowboy hat. I lost my baseball cap somewhere in Yosemite, and tomorrow I’ll be crossing miles and miles of desert with the sunroof open, naturally. And so I need some fine protection. And since I’m in the west, I might as well just play the part, just for the thrill of it. I find an inexpensive Toby Keith white straw hat and wear it walking out.
Then I drive across the border to Nevada where casinos start right across the line, literally right on the line. But that’s the certain thrill of down and out Nevada. These casinos look to be state of the art, though, even reputable, although I stay away from looking on the inside. But the next day will show that every two-bit town within the state is graced with at least one honky-tonk, if not dilapidated, tumbledown, establishment.
The desert is nothing compared to those dark thriller badlands; I’ll need my brand new hat for more than just a means of UV ray protection.