the lonliest road/western hospitality

Sometimes things don't live up to their names, but that's not the case with "The Lonliest Road in America." I figured that in this age of Internets and Walmarts and strip malls, that there weren't many places in the country that were untouched by the swift hand of progress.

I'm big enough to admit when I'm wrong.

I pulled into a town called Fallon in western Nevada. It contained--from what I could tell--nothing but fast food restaurant that looked as if they were built just an hour ago. One of which was a KFC/Long John Silver combo that employed around 10 kids, half of whom were sitting in the dining room area bored out of their minds. They each sat in different booths creating the illusion that the restaurant was busy. I had a $5 gift certificate to KFC, so I got a two-piece with some corn and the worst potato salad ever (I only took a bite). The young woman beind the counter was very pleasant and confused by the gift certificate. After about five minutes and consulting two other employees, everything was set and my order was entered into The Matrix.

I had just about over a quarter tank of gas in the car, so I asked her if she knew how far away the next town was. After all, if I was about to embark upon the Lonliest Road in America, running out of gas would create a certain amount of distress. She asked which direction, and when I answered, "East," she started as if to say something, paused, smiled and said, "Oh, I have no idea."

That was enough for me to opt for gassing up in Fallon. I pulled into a Native American-themed MegaGas stop on the edge of town, just a stones throw from Fallon's biggest attraction: a cemetary. And then I hit the road.

Within a few miles, the strip mall town had faded into obscurity, the speed limit on the two-lane highway inflated to a whopping 70mph, and I was quite literally in the middle of fucking nowhere. But I'd found a pretty sweet classic rock station on the radio, the sun was setting over the high desert and everything seemed right with the world.

But then it got darker. The scan function on my car's stereo ran through the FM dial without settling on a single station and I was stuck listening to Helloween's "Keeper of the Seven Keys" over and over again because it's on the CD that's stuck in the radio. Wildlife lurked in every corner, mostly of the benign type, and by benign, I mean dead. I was actually surprised there wasn't more roadkill strewn about this ghostly Autobahn. The few cars on the road zipped by me doing 75 as if I was in neutral and wildlife warning signs included cows, deers and Horned Gods. However, most of the carcasses were just unidentifiable forms of rodent matter.

I did see a few living beasties. One rabbit thought it would be a good idea to launch itself at my rear tire (luckily its aim was off), and outside the town of Austin, climbing to the top of a summit, I encountered two deers in the middle of the road. Since I was only doing 35 at the time, I was able to slow down to a stop. One of the deers quickly slinked into the surrounding brush, but the other dawdled on the road for a little while and walked along side of me as a I rolled to a stop before it darted away.

The bugs weren't so lucky. As my high beams shone across the dark, high desert night, hordes of flying insects swarmed toward the sweet embrace of death. But I pressed on, plowing through the bottom rung of the food chain, because I needed to get to Ely, which as I found out this evening is pronounced E-lee and not E-lie.

The first leg of the trip ended around midnight local time, and I'm currently holed up in the Historic Hotel Nevada, which has also played host to the likes of Mickey Rooney, whose suite is just a few doors down from mine. When I got my room, they handed me a heavy brass key and a coupon to a free drink at the dive bar across the street. When I went to redeem my prize, the bartender filled up a 10 oz. mug. I figured I'd have another, but when I asked her if the place took plastic, she said that it did, but the machine was acting all hokey and she wasn't sure if it would work. She then asked me what I wanted and said she'd fix it for me free of charge, so I got a Jim Beam on the rocks. When I was done, I said good night, and she came out from behind the bar, shook my hand and said, "Hey, enjoy your stay in Eeeleee." When I got back to my hotel/gambling hall, I redeemed my other ticket for a free margarita, and won $6 on the video poker machine built into the bar top. Enjoyment guaranteed.

Best Lonely Road Sing-a-long: "Here I Go Again" by White Snake, which came on as soon as I left Fallon.

Trip Rule #1: If Tom Petty comes on the radio, you must listen to it. One drink must be taken for every instance of "Free Fallin'" (I heard it twice).