The van is reportedly repaired, and so we are to head in the general direction of Idaho Falls, ID, where our next show now lies. Unfortunately, Ben
has more or less decided now to go home, and becomes more certain when we find out the Seattle show has been cancelled, or to be more precise, we
have been eliminated from it. The question is whether or not he will play the Idaho show, because we will not have acoustic guitars and therefore
cannot play it without him; he eventually agrees. After some discussion we decide to head to Salt Lake City today, then see Yellowstone National Park
tomorrow, then go to our show. Today’s route will take us north into Wyoming, then west to Utah.

Except that an hour into the drive, our van stops, for the fourth time. This time we fear almost the worst: the transmission. As Mike calls AAA once
again, I walk into Wyoming. So close and yet so far. Right across the border there are some snacks to last us the couple of hours it takes the
mechanic to get to us. Mike and I ride all the way back into Boulder in the van on top of the truck bed, a bumpy ride indeed. I’m getting used to it
though.

We eat dinner on the Pearl street mall, which is vibrant and very much a college town, though I don’t know why the college kids are here right now.
Our new lodging is with another friend of Scott’s sister. We wait for a bus there across the street from a liquor store and meet some interesting
characters. Two burnt-out metalheads come talk to us. One talks and laughs exactly like Sean Penn in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” and keeps
growling about how “hell has arrived.” The other is younger, an army brat who seems pretty intelligent. Later a woman comes up and tells us about
how she is from Long Island, was severely abused by her husband, has 7 children, and went from a 5-bedroom house to a drainage ditch in the past year.
Earlier today she wanted to kill herself. “I want to go so bad...” but she won’t because of her kids.

After about an hour we realize the bus isn’t coming and we take a cab.