Twisted Trail

In September 1990, I traveled from Denver, Colorado to Jackson Hole, Wyoming.  My older sister, Teresa, lived in Wilson, Wyoming with her husband Steve who was then an elected Democrat County Commissioner in the Jackson-Wilson area. Steve and Teresa had two young adult sons who were enrolled in college at the University of Wyoming in Laramie, Wyoming in 1990.  They had previously lived in Colorado as a family until the boys were adolescents when they bought a convenience store in Jackson Hole and moved to Wyoming.  I had visited them often in Colorado and had never traveled to Wyoming.

I didn’t drive then and had no transportation of my own.  I bought a Greyhound bus ticket from Denver to Rock Springs, Wyoming and another Greyhound bus ticket to ride in a van service from the Rock Springs bus station to Jackson Hole.   I boarded the Greyhound bus in downtown Denver at the bus terminal.  The bus departed Denver on schedule and began traveled north on I-25.  After an hour or so, the bus stopped, and the driver quit.  We were delayed for quite a while until a new driver took over driving the bus.  The delay meant that I would miss the departure of the commuter van from Rock Springs and would have to stay overnight at the bus station in Rock Springs and depart the next morning.  It didn’t dawn on me to ask whether the Rock Springs bus station was open all night.  The Denver bus station was open all night.

I didn’t have money to get a hotel room in Rock Springs.  I had to sleep outside in the cold all night under the stars.  I put all the clothes on that I had and tied the bag handles to me before falling asleep.




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