Fort Morgan

Waxing Gibbous Moon

I left Brush CO for Fort Morgan in the cool of the morning, skirting the edge of town, heading for US 34. I was too early for the museum, so I didn’t cut through the town center to see it. I did see two nice small parks, one with a skateboard ramp and one with a golf course.

Notice the exclamation point after Brush on the parks signs. The city started writing its name “Brush!” on all official business in the late 70s as part of an ad campaign to draw tourists and new residents. And they never stopped.

Brush High School (the school district) opted not to use the exclamation point, presumably because education is a serious enterprise. That notion backfired, though, when they decided on the school mascot. “Brush High School Beet Diggers” does not call to mind Isaac Newton or Thomas Paine or even Mr. Rogers. Oh well. It does have a feint poetic ring to it.

I kinda like “Brush!” personally. It’s peppy.

The pavement warmed up quickly and by lunchtime I had reached the very edge of Fort Morgan where the corn starts to blend in with the auto parts stores and machine shops. I was hot and stupified and hungry. When I saw the sign for the Home Plate Restaurant, I was in like Flint.

There were lots of friendly folks chowing down inside, especially the lady who was midway through a big plate of Mexican food in the booth next to mine. She asked me all about my REACH sign as I settled in. I struggled a bit to answer because of my parched throat, but I gave a pretty good account eventually. 

Moments later I was focused on a scrumptious plate of steak and eggs and hash browns and draining three glasses of cold iced tea. When the lady got up to leave, I stopped shovelling and swigging long enough to thank her for her interest and to wish her a good day.

I’ll be darned if she didn’t pay for my ticket unannounced on her way out the door. I was stunned and amazed when I found out. I ♡ Americans.

I ended up walking all the way through Fort Morgan and another five miles west of town before stopping. Something about this old truck made me just want to park it for the day.

Oh to stay in one spot for a while. 

Peace and Love Like a Rolling Stone,

Palomino

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