We awoke to the delight of a beautiful sunrise over the low-lying main street of Kearney, the cool relieving breeze of what seemed to be an ever-present wind, and the sounds of a loud electric leaf blower manned by the limping man who was in charge of the repairs to the hotel sidewalk and parking lot. He appeared to be doing all the work under the gaze of his lazy smoking co-workers. The noise of the last, and the possibility that we might be painted and sealed into our room in layers of tar and sealer was enough to spur us to move more quickly than usual.
After taking Trixie to do her business on the large lawn out front, and packing a load of luggage away, Pops ventured into what passed for the hotel’s restaurant to collect our complimentary breakfast to take it back up to the room. It was an appalling sight, dry bread ready to be hardened into toast without a spread in sight, a tub of rubbery scrambled eggs, another of cold greasy sausages and a nearly empty one of pathetic pancakes, not to mention a dusty selection of suspect cereals greeted him. Coffee as always overflowed like a gusher in an oil field, and the basket of wooden fruit awaited some taker – but there were none. Pops turned, and reported back that it would be better to forage on our own.
So we finished loading the car, checked out, and refueled the car at a local liquor & beer store on the strip, and picked up muffins made in some distant factory to eat.
Then on to the Archway Monument.