Reno's vibrancy bled away as hot rods trickled out of the city Sunday morning. Jane and I became part of the mass exodus, briefly, though we split off in a different direction than most, heading east instead of west or south.
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| Back-up transportation? |
It didn't take too long to settle into the rhythm of the road, the asphalt sliding past quickly even as the distant hills appeared to stay still. Jane grumbled along, seeming happy to stretch her legs after a few days of slow city driving.
We had a long drive ahead of us as I planned on driving all the way to St. George, UT, a 9 hour long trip if you account for stops for gas. Nevada is plagued by much the same problem as Texas: it takes a concentrated effort to leave, and that always seems to involve one long day of driving. I planned on taking a new route though, winding down in a southeasterly direction on a series of smaller state highways (US 6, 375, 93, and 168). My friend Mike had recommended the drive to me, saying that it was "really super beautiful for Nevada".
Well, he wasn't lying! The flat plains that make Nevada so... Nevada-y... were punctuated with awesome uplifted strata. Clearly visible alternating white, gray, and brown bands made it easy to check out faulting and folding in the area, even from miles away from the outcrops.
Unfortunately I had no information about the age or lithology of the uplifted sections, so I was left to make up my own stories about them. But the awesome outcrops did make the time seem to fly a lot faster.
About three hours into my blissful drive across the wide-open, empty highways, I suddenly felt a nudge at my left foot. I figured a large fly or something had gotten in so I shifted my foot a bit, not thinking much of it. But about thirty seconds later, I felt a very definite NIBBLE. I looked down into the footwell and lo and behold, there was A MOUSE holding onto my flip flop, nibbling on my foot!!
My blissful, serene drive suddenly became not-so-serene.
Fortunately, I'm not one to spook easily, and I've trained all of the "sudden jerk" type of startle out of myself since Jane's steering is so responsive. So outwardly, a bystander would have noticed nothing - no swerving, no scrambling around in the car, no change in speed. But inwardly I assure you that I was about as startled as I ever have been! There is nothing quite like having something suddenly bite your foot when you are driving 80 MPH in the middle of nowhere.
I stomped my foot and it skittered away to who-knows-where, and I was left to continue driving while silently panicking. There was really nowhere to stop, so I just kept on, figuring I would sort myself out at the next gas station.
Twenty minutes passed without a single sign of the mouse, and I began to wonder if maybe I had just imagined it somehow.
After twenty-two minutes, the mouse grabbed my pinky toe and gave it a few licks.
Cue the same muted-panic reaction - all I could do was wave my foot around in the air while trying desperately not to lose focus on the road. Oh, god, a mouse was attacking my foot. Or, really, kind of just bothering my foot, since it wasn't being very vicious about it.
Over the next thirty minutes I concluded that my left foot must be exceptionally tasty. The only way I could get the damn mouse to leave me alone was if I stretched my foot up under the dash, as the mouse had taken up residence under my seat and seemed fully prepared to go for my foot anytime it was within a 12-inch radius of the seat.
It is a long, LONG drive to Tonopah when there is a mouse after your foot, let me tell you that!
Once I got into Tonopah I pulled off at a gas station, filled Jane up, and prepared for war against the mouse. I got the brightest flashlight I had (for inspecting) and a screwdriver (for poking) and went through Jane's interior, looking in all of the nooks and crannies that I know of. And yet... no mouse! I convinced myself that it had hopped out of the door when I got out to get gas.
Back on the road, it took another two hours before the mouse made a reappearance. At least this time he settled for just licking my flip flop. And you know, when you spend more than a few hours dealing with something stressful like a mouse actively nibbling on you while driving a classic car at high speeds... I guess you kind of just get used to it. I didn't mind so much if he was only going to lick my flip flop. So the new solution I came up with was to put the flip flop next to the seat as a sacrifice, and drive with my left foot bare.
Well, that worked just fine, and I resumed enjoying the scenery while Mr. Mouse enjoyed the delicious scent of my stinky flip flop.
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| A really cool mural in the middle of nowhere on the Extraterrestrial Highway. |
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| More neato rocks in the Golden Hour. |
If you give a mouse a Mustang, he's going to ask for somewhere to sit.
When you give him somewhere to sit, he's going to go exploring
When he goes exploring, he's going to find your foot
When he finds your foot, he's going to take a nibble
When he takes a nibble, you're going to yell at him
When you yell at him, he's just going to go find something else to nibble
When he goes looking for something else to nibble, he'll find all kinds of cool hiding places
When he finds these hiding places, he'll decide that Mustangs are pretty cool to live in
When he finds that out, he'll decide to stay
And when he decides to stay, chances are he'll nibble your foot again
I think it has the potential to be a best-seller, really.
Anyways, Mr. Mouse and I were getting along just fine as the Golden Hour came and went. As the sun began to set, it suddenly occurred to me: mice are most active at night. I did not want this mouse to be active. But I knew it was inevitable.
All I could hope for was that it would not climb inside my clothes or really develop a taste for human flesh or, worse, develop a hankering for tasty classic car wiring harness. Mice are horrible in that they love to eat the insulation on wires in cars, causing shorts and all kinds of terrible stuff. Fortunately, my mouse seemed to mostly be interested in flip flops instead. I just hoped that would remain the case.
It seemed like only a couple of minutes after the sun set when I suddenly felt a scampering on my arm. In the darkness, I yelled at the mouse like a lunatic, lecturing it about the dangers of classic cars and messing with me and climbing on people in the dark or climbing on anything in the dark, really. I didn't feel the feet on me again, so maybe he heeded my warning.
Finally, FINALLY I arrived in St. George, where I made a beeline for the nearest 24-hour Walmart. I parked and flipped on my lights to see if I could see the mouse.
Oh, I saw him alright.
That CHEEKY little bugger was sitting right in my sunflower seed cup, having himself a nice feast! He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed or even a little bit bothered as I took a few photos. I was incredulous. But I'll admit it, it was hilarious. The full absurdity of the situation - that I had been driving a 50+ year old car, across the entire state of Nevada, for 9 hours, with a tiny mouse nibbling on my foot, and to find that the thing wasn't even scared of me - was just too much.
After laughing for a good five minutes straight - which probably made me one of the stranger people parked in the Walmart parking lot at that hour - I decided that I liked this little mouse. I liked his guts. And he was pretty cute to boot.
I wasn't sure what I was going to do with him, but I knew that he needed to be contained at least because I really didn't want him to eat Jane's wiring, cute or not. So I bought a nice humane trap from Walmart and set it up with a bunch of sunflower seeds and peanut butter inside. Then I left it on the floor and retired for the night. If this trap doesn't catch him... well, I just hope it does, or I might have to get used to having a mouse attached to my foot while driving, I guess. I guess that wouldn't be that bad.
Until tomorrow, Kelly signing out.
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