248 miles
I drove the Colorado National Monument yesterday. At the gas station, the attendant asked if I was going to some rally. After I told him, he said "oh" in this unimpressed way."Is it nice?" I asked. "Sure. If you like mountains."
I stopped at a town with a few thrift stores, that also happened to contain the grave memorial of Doc Holliday. He was probably buried in the Potter's feld, a term for the area where the poor, prostitutes, and minorities were buried. But they put his marker in with the regular folk. I guess legend can elevate the status of the dead.
I had called a campground outside Denver for my destination. It's supposed to be hot in Denver, just like everywhere, so I need cat AC and a shower. They had one left. When I got there, though, I realized it was not as close to the city as I thought. And for being in the woods, it was crowded. I was claustrophobic just looking at it.
I went to a campground in town. By then it was after 8, so I couldn't get anyone on the phone. There was a small, frustrating sign put front, announcing Full. Truck stop and truck stop shower it was.
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