Weeeeee.
But really, it was actually quite nice. The scenery through the mountains is positively serene, and every time I go through, I want my own log cabin snuggled up against the green hills and some cows nibbling the green grass. I want to stop and do everything that the little signs advertise: fly down the zipline, explore Moqui Cave, take a gander at Montezuma's Castle, eat at the little diners that beg you to try their "Ho-Made Pies." All I've ever done is drive past.
Driving past is nice, too, though. We go from the verdant hills of northern Utah to the brush of southern, to the pink and orange strata of northern Arizona rocks, to the cactus of the Arizona desert. Ah, yes. I love it all, green to brown and trees to bushes.
What was especially lovely about this trip was a period of a few hours where me and the driver sat in silence. Not uncomfortable silence, just...quiet. Quiet punctuated with light conversation and laughter every once in a while. But mostly just quiet--quiet, and the breath of the scenery pressing lightly on the car's window glass.
It felt like a moment of slowness in the middle of an 80-mile-per-hour life.
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