I didn’t plan this to be a day for taking pictures. I had researched various routes beforehand looking for the shortest way to get back to I-15 and north to Salt Lake City before noon so that we could relax and take it easy before our flight. I found a small side route that would reach the freeway in less than an hour, but Michal’s GPS told him the fastest route would be north on the bigger Hwy 89 to Spanish Fork Canyon which was clearly longer on the map, and it joined the freeway half an hour further north. 
Michal scoffed at me for suggesting that I thought I knew more than his GPS. He said I was just like his uncle, who two days earlier he had described as incapable of adapting to changes around him, adding that it was best just to put up with him without trying, and that real societal change wouldn’t happen until his uncle’s generation (i.e. my generation) died off. I took his assessment as a personal insult and it really hurt.
He was pissed off at me too, for taking my role as navigator too seriously and teasing him for having an addiction to his GPS. We scarcely spoke to each other for the rest of the trip. It didn’t help that both the top end of Hwy 89 and Rte 6 through Spanish Fork Canyon were under construction with several points where we needed to stop and wait before proceeding. I said nothing but to reassure him that we still had plenty of time, but the real salt in his wound was a small pebble that broke our windshield at the end of the construction zone just before we reached the freeway. It’s a small star-shaped crack that might to fixable with a glue treatment but we won’t know the cost for couple more weeks.
We returned the jeep and caught the shuttle to the airport and made it through security in plenty of time. The first leg of our trip home was a flight to Phoenix where we had a 4 hr stopover. We shared two greasy mini-pizzas in the airport, the only food we had after our early breakfast that day. Michal left me to wander around the terminal while I read my novel. The flight to SeaTac arrived half an hour early and by 8:10pm we were speeding north on I-5 towards Vancouver.
I waited until we made it through the border before I tried to mend the hard feelings between us. I thanked him for watching over me and helping me whenever I needed help throughout the trip. I reminded him that I could never so such a trip on my own and that I was very grateful to him for making it possible. We exchanged a warm handshake as he dropped me off, his sole gesture of affection during the trip. As a parting chide, I asked him if he knew how to find his way back to his route home, a trip he has made dozens of times. Before he could answer I suggested he enter his home address into his GPS. That made him smile.
No one was home when I opened the door to my apartment. It was around 11pm. I hurriedly made some scrambled eggs and toast to settle my rumbling stomach.
PHOTO 1: Manti Temple
PHOTO 2: in Ephraim
PHOTO 3: Hwy 89 at Birdseye
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