Up the mesa

The temperature outside was a little cool when Grant and I set out for Sangre Mesa this morning. We took my truck because the road leading up to the trail is a little rugged — not exactly an ideal place to go for a drive in a classic luxury sportscar.

Grant’s eyes sort of lit up when I told him the truck has a 327, so I tossed him the keys and told him to put his foot as far into the carburetor as he liked. We were just outside city limits when he punched it up to 95. I honestly didn’t know my truck would go that fast. It was utterly terrifying and absolutely exhilarating all at the same time. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered whether my stuffy old high-school principal had ever gone tearing down Route 66 at 95 mph just for the fun of it. Somehow I doubt it.

Once we started up the mesa, Grant pretty much fell in love with the desert flowers and the morning sunshine and the little lizards sunning themselves on the blood-red rocks under a Maxfield Parrish sky.

The trail up the mesa really isn’t that long — maybe two miles — but it took us a good hour and a half to get up there, mostly because Grant had his iPhone out and wanted to take pictures of everything. I had to smile, because I’d done the same thing on my first trip, except I’d had about four cameras along and wound up spending the better end of six hours out there.

All I brought along this time was a vintage Diana that I found at a junk shop in Amarillo on my way out here. Grant thought it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. We wound up spending 10 or 15 minutes using it to take pictures of each other in front of a cool-looking boulder we found.

Grant was in front of me on the way back down the mesa. All I am going to say about that is some men were born to wear jeans, and Grant is clearly on the short list. (I would also like the record to show that I was a very good girl and resisted the temptation to capture photo evidence of this fact.)

I am trying very hard not to go completely head over feet for this guy, because there is no guarantee that Dr. Scherer is going to offer him the job, and there is no guarantee that he will accept the job even if it is offered … but a girl can dream, can’t she?

— Sierra


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