The next day, I just barely made it into Rawlins. About 5 miles before town, I ran out of water. Up until then, I had always had water to spare. That was when I suddenly experienced the desert. It was terrible! My tongue kept sticking to my gums. My whole mouth felt like it had been patted dry with a dish towel.
On top of that, I got a flat running over some construction debris. There was no good place to stop, so I had to pull off into the prickly brush to fix it.
At long last I crawled into Rawlins, with a supermarket or convenience store as my first destination. It took quite a while to locate a place, actually. Rawlins seemed to be crowded with bars, drive-up liquor stores, and transient motels.
After picking up some money from Cirrus and a General Delivery letter from Merrianne, I started to look for accommodations. The phone book said that most of the motels were on Spruce Street. Rather than take down addresses, I decided to simply cruise the boulevard.
Soon, I came upon a place that went for $16.95 single. I mentally made a note, since I wanted to find the cheapest place, not the nicest. A few buildings down, there was $14.95. And two blocks further, I found the champion – $12.95 a night. Now, even in 1988, a single in my home town of Sunnyvale would run about $35 – if you scrimped.
As I began to take off my helmet, gloves, and other paraphernalia, I saw a kid come screaming down the hill on a skateboard. “Wait! Wait!” he cried.
“Did you plan to stay in Rawlins?” he asked.
(Obviously) “Yes…”
“Would you like to stay at my house?”
His name was Matt Thornton, and it turned out that he had chased me for several blocks. His folks regularly took in cyclists.
Right at the door, Sara, his mother, offered me some iced tea, which I gladly accepted. Iced tea seemed to be the thing to drink in the desert. We talked for a while in the basement, which was surprisingly cool.
After seeing the town, I went over to the local museum with Matt. It was so fascinating, that I missed my check-in call with Merrianne. I called about an hour late, and couldn’t locate Merrianne. Finally, I left a message on the machine, saying that I would try to call later.
I spent the night in my tent, under the Thornton’s clothesline.