Day 61

I drove through the Waterpocket Fold and forged east. I stopped at two gas stations along the way—the first for a drink, and the second for fuel. Out here in the boonies, gas stations are the true centers of the community. They’re giant and well-kept, with restaurants, spacious seating areas, clothing departments, tchotchkes, bait for fishermen, glorious restrooms, and laundry/shower complexes that summon customers over an in-store public address system. I frowned at the gun counter but celebrated the rest.

My bemusement turned to panic when I saw the hot dogs and taquitos rolling slowly on the grill. There were so many options, so many flavors to try. My heart quickened. I deeply, desperately wanted a gas station hot dog. This was the Last Temptation of Jake. I summoned all my mental strength and spiritual fortitude and backed slowly away. I made it back to the car and torpedoed out of the station before I could fold.

Another hour and I was in Moab, filled with signs of civilization such as stoplights and chain restaurants. I had arrived just in time; a prescription had run out, and my psychiatrist was unresponsive, so I turned to urgent care at Mom’s suggestion. The nurse asked some standard questions, then dropped the bomb on me: I have high blood pressure. Not enough to be a clinical issue, but enough that I should try a moderate lifestyle change. In a way, I was relieved to have the burden of physical perfection lifted from my sculpted shoulders. Followers of the Diet Coke Log, you may see fewer listings in the coming weeks as I try to relieve my arteries. I’m glad I didn’t eat the hot dog.

I spent the evening listening to the Bruins and eating carrots. I’m also in a wonderful place to watch the Orionid meteor shower, which should show up beautifully in the dark sky. I may have to rouse myself before dawn to see them at their best.