Finding the Sun

"This is where the book starts," I explained to Andy as he exited the highway in Weed, CA. "Steinbeck opened Of Mice and Men by having Lennie and George escape from a ranch in Weed." We drove around the outskirts of town, looking for a "Welcome to Weed" population sign.

"I think Weed has seen better days," Andy said, "and I don't see any Steinbeck references."
"Right!" I laughed. "Steinbeck's Weed references implied vigilante justice against his main characters. Not so complimentary!"
We stopped on Main Street for a picture as the rain started.
Little Red leaks. There is no doubt about it. Well, my door frame, at least.
"This shouldn't last long," said Andy as we turned south on Route #89 around Mount Shasta. Sheets of rain spread across the windshield, but my right side was spared this time. "So far, so good," I told Andy. But most rainy days I sit holding tissues to the window frame to avoid being dripped on. Thank goodness for the Gettysburg College seat cushion or I would be sitting in dampness too.
"I think we'll probably put 20,000 miles on Little Red before we get back," said Andy, as he checked the odometer.
"Let's hope it's not all in the rain," I suggested.
Along Route #44 in Susanville the heavy black clouds piled up against each other.
"That looks like snow," I thought out loud. "The blue is up there... somewhere. We saw it a few minutes ago." Every so often the trees opened up, revealing huge expanses of dry fields. "Fifty-eight hundred seventy-two feet," I read from the GPS.
"I had no idea we were that high," said Andy, "but it explains the patches of snow on the side. They must have plowed a couple days ago."
In Susanville, a large town of 17,400 for this part of the world, brilliant blue cracks of sky peeked through the menacing cumulus cloud wads and layers. It looked like a giant plate of Cool Whip with deep blue drizzles. But as we drove underneath it, I said, "Nope. It's not Cool Whip any more. It looks dirty gray now."
But skies improved. By the time we got to Sparks, Nevada, only the surrounding peaks harbored puffy white clouds.
"I'm glad now that we came here," said Andy.
A pleasant clerk assigned us to room 1667 on the 16th floor of John Ascuaga's Nugget Casino in Sparks.
"This place is starving," said Andy. "It's Saturday night, and there is no one here." Across the street the Silver Club was boarded up, all two blocks worth of classy hotel and casino. The Nugget monopolized the business of Sparks, such as it was. "I read somewhere that Indian casinos affected Sparks and Reno more than anywhere else in the country," said Andy.
If that is true, we saw the evidence. We benefited as well--low rates on a Saturday night for a top floor room with a spectacular view.