It was a hell drive. We stopped only to refuel. It was just a blur of driving, trying to sleep, and more driving.

Three things of note happened on the trip down:

On my way to Boise, I got caught in a freak dust storm in Ontario - the wind was blowing so hard I thought it was going to flip my trailer (boat and trailer weigh ~250lbs.) In a rare burst of prudence, I pulled over until the dust storm abated and I could see again.

Somewhere in New Mexico, fairly early in the day, a large crow tried to stare us down as we crossed a bridge. We'll never know if this was a suicide or failed attempt at a crow-jacking, but the end result was the same: a punched in grill on Jon's car and a raven that will quoth nevermore.

Somewhere in Texas, late in the day, we came up on a jeep roaring down the freeway. As we passed the jeep, we noticed a donkey's ass (ass^2?) sticking up out of the bed in the back. We debated for miles as to if the donkey was dead or if the accepted method of transporting donkeys was to tie the head to the feet and cram it into a jeep.

Note::At the end of my trip, I noticed a couple of farriers shoeing horses alongside the road. Figuring donkeys are somewhat equine in nature, I stopped and asked them about the donkey in the jeep. One man set aside his hoof file and told me of the days he had spent in the southwest: "It was dead," he stated with certainty. "Donkey is some of the finest eating meat you'll ever taste. Ever wonder why they call 'em Burritos?" Satisfied with the answer and the resolution of a bonus mystery, I thanked the men and continued on my way.