The Train Was Late--Very Late (Part One)

When I bought my ticket for Amtrak’s California Zephyr train from Granby, Colorado to Grand Junction, Colorado, the clerk warned me that the train might be a bit late—maybe as much as two hours. Still, it seemed like a good solution to our problem.

We spent a week driving to Seattle so that we could go on our Alaskan cruise. (Yes, I know. Most people fly from Oklahoma City to Seattle. Even those who drive take less than a week to get there. But we travel by the “Ten to Three” plan. It works like this: The motel’s check out time is ten, so we leave then. We drive for a couple of hours, then stop for lunch. After a leisurely lunch, we drive until three, when we can check into the next motel. We then have time for a swim in the pool or even a nap before supper. This routine continues throughout our trip.)

Okay, I’ve had my little ADD break, so I’ll go on with my story. We spent two weeks on the cruise, followed by about ten days in Oregon playing on the coast and visiting Wild Child, The Blonde, and the Grand Dog. (More about that later. But look. Isn’t he a great looking dog?)

Next, Dr. Lobo left me at the Portland airport so that I could fly to Denver in preparation for my annual “Gabfest” with college friends. While I gabbed with my friends, he drove toward Colorado, following the Ten to Three plan. We thought he might need extra time to get to Granby, where Gabfest takes place. The California Zephyr stops in Granby, so we decided we would shorten his eastward drive. I would take a westbound train and meet him in Grand Junction.

Sounds simple, right? Well, it would have been, except for a few complicating factors. First, although the train was scheduled to arrive at 10:37 a.m., my friends needed to drop me off at the train station at 7:45 so they could get to the Denver airport in time for the Gabfesters’ flights. Okay, no problem. I can entertain myself for long periods of time with a book, a notebook, and a pen. The Granby train station is merely a waiting area, with no clerks. I figured I could get a lot of writing done with all that solitude.

The first hour and a half were lovely. Then, what should appear but . . .

To be continued . . .