View from a Truck Stop

When Rural Ways is at home in Parowan on a Saturday morning, we always go out to the TravelCenters of America truck stop near the freeway for a snack. Ellen and I drive the Chev over the highway, park by the feedlot, and walk across the five acre parking lot to the store. Besides truckers, what we mostly find there are people from Vegas and San Bernardino. It is one of the interesting things about having I-15 in the Parowan Valley: You park in a feedlot, in a valley with more sagebrush than people, get out of your vehicle and find yourself in suburban California, which, from what I can tell, is mostly about hip-hop clothing and tattoos. Anyway, inside the truck stop there is a little food court with some tables. Ellen and I grab a sleeve of crackers, a bottle of juice, and a diet Pepsi; give our money to Jennifer, who works every Saturday morning; and go sit at one of the tables. Along with the loud people from elsewhere there is always, at one of the other tables, a pair of old men—friends—sitting quietly. They are locals, with the same habit that we have. Every Saturday, they go to the truck stop, buy a pint of milk, and sit at the table together. They don't say anything, they just sit there. Occasionally one of the employees will come by and the men will ask after so-and-so's mother, but mostly they are quiet. After a while they get up and go out, leaving their chairs for truckers and families with sullen kids dressed like gangsters. Pretty soon, we, too, finish our snacks, cross the overpass, and return to southern Utah.