Hey sports fans, if you are just joining us, this post is the fifth part of a series that began here. This series is nearly complete, but I haven’t found the energy to finish it just yet.
We now return to the program in progress.
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“Horse with no name” by America
After some intense memories, this one might seem small and insignificant. It’s not, but the kind of memories and emotions that it conjures up are decidedly more upbeat. One morning a long time ago, in a jurisdiction far, far away saw me strike out across Idaho as I headed to Boise for a weekend drill with my Military Police unit at Gowen Field. I was on the move just behind the rising sun on that beautiful and brilliantly clear morning. The sky was bright blue, and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen—just an endless blue sky, the scents of desert, and the noise of highway 26 passing under my tires as I drove West through the desert.
On the first part of the journey
I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
It was 199something and I was 18. I looked damn good in my BDUs and shined black combat boots, was armed with a government issued excuse from school, and was enjoying my freedom from the public school system. For some reason lost to so many years, I pulled over on the shoulder of the highway “out in the desert”, somewhere around The EBR I Historical site. Maybe I had to stretch, maybe I wanted to wave at my Dad, working away somewhere at the Site (then the Idaho National Engineering Lab), or perhaps indulge in some open air relief—I don’t recall.
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot, and the ground was dry
What I do recall—as clear as the sky that bright, shining morn— was getting back in the car, putting the old blue Buick in gear, and nosing back into the westbound lane as this song came on. I’d heard the song a handful of times before, but this time it just hit different. The brilliant and clear sky, the quiet morning (save the hum of the road under my tires), and the desert life all around combined with lyrics just gave the morning an ethereal quality that’s stayed with me for the better part of 30 years now.
You see I’ve been through the desert
On a horse with no name
I drove—alone and with family members–that stretch of road many times in the 80s and 90s as I grew up in Idaho Falls. Most of those trips were heading to see family in Central Idaho, though quite a few were to get to Drills on Gowen field as well. I didn’t drive it for decades after I left Idaho, until one summer weekend in midst of a vacation and road trip with my Partner Cara.
Thanks to hard work and a decent severance, I had the cash and time for a vacation to Idaho Falls with her after getting laid off. We were headed back for her home in Boise on that very same stretch of road. It was a warm summer morning when we left my Parents house in Idaho falls–though nowhere near as early as it was on the day I recalled above. Nearly 30 years on, “the desert” started a bit further west of Idaho Falls, and seeing the growth that part of Idaho Falls had witnessed over the intervening years was…odd. As we got further out of town, into the desert proper, a storm started to blow in and began dropping light rain on us.
We talked as we rolled down the highway and toward the storm; the sky grew darker and I rolled the windows down. Petichor, dominated by the smell of wet sage, blew into the open windows and made the interior of my truck smell heavenly. We stopped at a rest area—that same one right next door to EBR I—where we got out to stretch our legs. We played in the mist, explored the picnic area, marveling at the smell, the desert landscape, and the memories of adventures past that came.
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can remember your name
And then we drove onward toward new days, new travels, and new adventures to be had.
‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain
La, la, la, la, la, la
August 2024
Portland, OR
Mr Curly's Adventures 