Eads, Colorado
I think I may be the only person who wants to spend three hours driving to Bumblefuck, Colorado (otherwise known as Eads) to see the site where hundreds of Cheyenne and Arapahoe Indians were massacred.
It was eerie how pretty it was. Unfortunately, we only got there about an hour before closing, so we didn't get to wander around much.
My dad and are similar in that we like to take backroads and go through small towns, so it took us about five hours to get there, with a stop in Kit Carson for a late lunch at one of the only two restaurants in town. The french fries were to die for. The French Dip, on the other hand, was tasteless. I wonder why I'm so surprised by that... It was a big restaurant filled with seating that looked like it dated back to the seventies, and it was complete with folded tables and stack-away chairs. It reminded me of my Grandpa's VA...
In any case, I heard the most interesting conversation. An older lady (one of many in the restaurant) dressed all in white, with carefully primped hair was talking to the pockmarked waiter who was wearing a band t-shirt and worn-out jeans. She said, "you go get your degree and come back, you hear. Come back, and resurrect this town."
The boy simply smiled and said, "I think this town needs a lot more resurrecting than I can provide."
It made me wonder if there was some golden age of Kit Carson that this woman was remembering. Perhaps, she was longing for the good ol' days of when all three of the gas stations were open, instead of one. I asked my dad, and he agreed. Then he talked about the only way a town like this could survive is if a company decides to move in and take advantage of people who would be grateful for a job.
That happened in Elbert, which is just a bit down from my hometown. There, they make motherboards for nuclear warheads. No joke.
If anything, my trip has taught me that I live just as far away from civilization as possible and still be apart of it. Past Elizabeth, it gets to be a chore.
Oh, and on a random closing note, here's an old abandoned house we found adjacent to a winter wheat field:
There was nothing in the house except fallen lumber and an old sink, but the barn, for some reason, had a line of fifty-year-old refrigerators. Weird...
It was eerie how pretty it was. Unfortunately, we only got there about an hour before closing, so we didn't get to wander around much.
My dad and are similar in that we like to take backroads and go through small towns, so it took us about five hours to get there, with a stop in Kit Carson for a late lunch at one of the only two restaurants in town. The french fries were to die for. The French Dip, on the other hand, was tasteless. I wonder why I'm so surprised by that... It was a big restaurant filled with seating that looked like it dated back to the seventies, and it was complete with folded tables and stack-away chairs. It reminded me of my Grandpa's VA...
In any case, I heard the most interesting conversation. An older lady (one of many in the restaurant) dressed all in white, with carefully primped hair was talking to the pockmarked waiter who was wearing a band t-shirt and worn-out jeans. She said, "you go get your degree and come back, you hear. Come back, and resurrect this town."
The boy simply smiled and said, "I think this town needs a lot more resurrecting than I can provide."
It made me wonder if there was some golden age of Kit Carson that this woman was remembering. Perhaps, she was longing for the good ol' days of when all three of the gas stations were open, instead of one. I asked my dad, and he agreed. Then he talked about the only way a town like this could survive is if a company decides to move in and take advantage of people who would be grateful for a job.
That happened in Elbert, which is just a bit down from my hometown. There, they make motherboards for nuclear warheads. No joke.
If anything, my trip has taught me that I live just as far away from civilization as possible and still be apart of it. Past Elizabeth, it gets to be a chore.
Oh, and on a random closing note, here's an old abandoned house we found adjacent to a winter wheat field:
There was nothing in the house except fallen lumber and an old sink, but the barn, for some reason, had a line of fifty-year-old refrigerators. Weird...