Today was the beginning of our last month on the road and it bummed me out. I woke up late but made it downstairs just in time for breakfast. We got a phone call from Dollar to say that the new (or should I say next) car wouldn't arrive until about 3pm. I had a quick word with the manager of the hotel and she agreed to let us stay in the room for an extra two hours after check out. We got ready, collected ourselves and checked out.
We went to Jamba Juice for a smoothie, then Chipotle for lunch and then I went to Starbucks for an espresso. I insulted the girl at the counter because I wouldn't tell her my name when she asked. Fucking Starbucks - I hate the place. And I hate when you go into a shop and they want to know your name. I'm not there to meet them and become their new friend. I just want a shagging coffee. Or I just want to be served and then left alone. So, I asked the girl why she wanted to know my name as there weren't any other customers in the place. She very tersely replied that they try to personalise their service.
By the time I finished my espresso, it was almost 3:00. We drove to the garage and met the tow-truck guy called John. Incredibly, the only car that Dollar had to give us was another Avenger! The same exact model and colour. So, we are now on car number eight, Avenger number two and Dodge number five.
The kind people (who were probably Mormons) in the shop gave us directions without mentioning Jesus once. John had told us that there was a terrible accident on 15N just beyond where we had to get on. There is a bridge being built and it seems that one of the pillars for it fell from a crane and smashed some cars. I don't know what happened but I can't imagine that everyone survived.
We made the left turn out of the shop and straight into a really nasty traffic jam. But an hour and nine miles later we were back on 15 north of the accident and on our way to Idaho and more importantly out of Utah.
About 340 miles later we stopped in Boise for a bite to eat. I read somewhere that Boise is young, hip and a cool place to be. I must say from the little bit that I saw I actually agree. We drove into the historic district and found a cool little Italian spot called Posto's. The pizzas were great and the local brew - Powerhouse Porter was very nice indeed. I had driven the early shift today so I was able to enjoy two pints with my pie.
It was getting late but we wanted to press on so we got back on to 84W and drove about another 80 miles or so to Baker City. Upon arriving, we checked in to the Budget Inn or (more accurately) the Disco Down Inn. The room was covered in green shag carpet and most of the furnishings seemed to be from the 1970s. In fact the whole place was in a bit of a time warp - a great little slice of Americana. When I went to the front desk, I was greeted by the inn keeper who was an older chap with white hair and a white ronnie. He spoke with a funny little lisp where he whistled when he said the letter S. He reminded me of that old guy on Family guy who has a thing for young boys.
We check in, hauled the bags up to the room and hit the scratcher quick smart.