Brad Nelson

The other day, I was happily engaged at keeping the vehicle I was driving where it should be on the road. I was on a two-lane road in Nevada, and I was driving a Freightliner tractor with the good old 550-horse Cat engine. I was pulling triple hay trailers and the usual high, gusty winds west of Tonopah were making it an interesting drive.

I just explained to Feather, our Lab/cow-dog cross, that if marshmallow “Peeps” are not the traditional Easter colors of yellow or pink, then you don’t have to wait until Easter to eat them.

Some time back as our next meal was in the planning stages, my wife said she had in mind to make sad pie. I had not heard that terminology for some time, and it brought back memories.

I don’t think there is a city block in Tonopah, Nevada, that is level. Tonopah is rich in silver mining history – complete with historic old hotels and at least a couple of parks full of antique mining equipment. The town sits a-straddle a high ridge with large flat areas of land on both the east and west sides.

They were mostly black, three in number. They were traveling together, the two in the rear following the first. I was traveling east on Highway 375 in southern Nevada when I noticed the trio moving in behind me.

Life was not made for questions that can be answered “yes” or “no.” My almost-13-year-old grandson, who generally eats with his boots under my table, has discovered cooking. I think it started with fried eggs and then progressed to pancakes.