Wyoming

I was only in Wyoming for a little bit. I did not go to Cheyenne. I did not go to the sheep ranch where my future friend Nick Reid grew up. I was just cutting through, really...cutting the north east corner.

And then an unfortunate thing happened. A bird decided to cross the road by flying about a foot above it. When you have the entire sky, you think you might use it. I suppose this bird was multi-tasking: traveling and foraging.

So, of course, my car and this bird collided. It was one of those moments where you realize that if you made any attempt to avoid it, you would probably still kill the bird AND get in an accident. So I just hit it.

I know that I hit it because I heard the sound of it hitting the underside of my car. Vehicular slaughter isn't something I like to partake in. Like my mom, I covered my mouth. Unlike my mom, I only used one hand, so I was still able to control my car.

After a half hour or so, I started to feel OK again. Soon I was thirsty, so I took the opportunity to pull off at a rest station. As soon as I got off the highway I noticed that my car sounded really loud. (Expletive), I thought.

"Sounds should be muted by the muffler," I thought, "so perhaps I've got a hole in mine."

I parked and walked to the back side of my car, crouch down. I look where my muffler should be. Dust bunnies.

I sat puzzled for a few seconds, and then quickly realize that my muffler is missing.

I went inside the rest area and called my mother as I filled up my water bottle. "Is a muffler something I can install myself?" I ask her.

"No, you've gotta find a shop to repair that. Did you hear about Michael Jackson?"

Expletive.