The rest area right at the highest point of I-80 in Wyoming is the best one I’ve seen. It’s more museum than rest area, a tribute to the Lincoln Highway, a highway across America that was conceived decades before the Interstate highway system. A bust of Lincoln on top of stone monument stood as a sentinel to the building. Inside were museum type exhibits complete with stuffed bears and antelopes. The women at the information desk wore cowboy hats, befitting a rest area in Wyoming.
All the rest areas since we entered the Mountain Time zone have been cool. Shortly into Colorado we stopped at a rustic rest area at sunset that had a southwestern cowboy feel to it. The rest area upon entrance into Utah promised to be a nice one, situated at the feet of red sandstone cliffs, except that all but the restrooms were locked up. This brought disappointment to Ky, who had asked about 300 miles previously to stop at that rest area to get camping info.
We arrived at the rest area in Nevada in the middle of the night, two dark to make out our surroundings, save that the interpretive signs were about the Humboldt River. The urinals were the strangest I’ve seen. They amounted to triangular stainless steel buckets protruding from the wall so far as to appear like toilet seats. Fortunately there were no signs that someone had mistaken them for such.
