Friday, June 17, 2016

The Road To Cheyenne

We preceeded a trip to Colorado in 1979 with a visit to some friends in Wyoming. That long and winding trip took us north from Kansas City on I-29, cutting over to I-80 through the heart of Nebraska.



We stopped midway through the 10-hour run for a brown-bag lunch at a rest area just west of Lincoln.


We met up with our friends at Little America, a truck stop and resort in Cheyenne.



At that time, it was a Best Western, and it had a penguin on the sign, just like the version in Flagstaff (a reference to the Little America station in Antarctica). And that's about all I remember of Cheyenne, except for hanging out with our friends and their kids and their cat. We snooped around Cheyenne a little looking for western wear before scooting onto Colorado. I guess the Royal Father didn't think there was much to see, either, which would explain why we don't have any videotape archive of Cheyenne -- despite him falling in love with that hulking RCA camera and Quasar VTR.

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