I'm back in my house. Four states, three time zones, one agricultural inspection, three Border Patrol inspections (two in California), fourteen hours, and 880 miles after I left my hotel in Van Horn, Texas, this morning. My hands hurt from holding the steering wheel.
One of the rest areas I stopped at had this warning sign, and without thinking, I started walking across the dirt, because the sidewalk went out of the way.
But then I inspected my path and found it clear, so I kept going.
While I'm on the topic of rest areas, I'm putting in my vote for the Worst Rest Area Along the Interstate System. It's near Glamis, California, between the Gordons Well and Grays Well exits. It's in the median between the two directions of traffic on I-8, so both directions can go there. But all it has is lots of dirt, a few shade trees, a few Porta-Potties, a few dumpsters, and nothing else. Not even parking spots. Use it only in case of dire emergency. I gave it a miss this time.
I hadn't planned on driving all the way home today. I was going to stay somewhere in Arizona and finish up tomorrow. But I got to Yuma at 6:30pm, and I knew that the minute I crossed the Colorado River on the other side of town, it would only be 5:30pm, and that's much too early to stop for the night.
Granted, I could have stopped in El Centro, but Yuck! So I kept on going. Gina told me that I should get home around 8:30pm, but the Border Patrol stops slowed that down, and I didn't get home until just after 9:00 (after a stop at the grocery store for some creamer and breakfast food).
I called my mom and left a message for my daughter, letting them know I got home safely. Now it's time to get in my jammies and go to bed.