It’s been awhile since I took a road trip, and even longer since I traversed Utah County, which begins in Lehi—so named after a Book of Mormon prophet, who in turn was named after a valley in Pennsylvania. Once a popular spot for hang gliding, safe landing spots have diminished thanks to a multitude of cookie cutter housing developments, each with its own LDS church. Were your chute to collapse over Lehi today, you’d have a seventy percent chance of becoming impaled on a steeple.
In addition to billboards advertising magical potions and essential oils are multitudinous Mike Lee campaign signs. I’ve now entered the reddest part of the red state of Utah.
Nephi (also named after a Book of Mormon prophet) is where I exit I-15 because I’m hankering for a Granny burger with fries from the Nebo Freeze. While waiting for my order, I pick up a local newspaper in which I find a notice that so-called Goldbacks are fast replacing Greenbacks as legal tender—thus bringing to pass Bishop John Koyle’s prediction that a long lost Nephite treasure trove will become America’s new Fort Knox. Time to start rummaging through the attic in search of grandpa’s Dream Mine stock certificates!
From Nephi I head west on S.R. 132 toward Delta, thence south on S.R. 275, which I vastly prefer to Interstate 15 because except for the occasional free-range cow, I have the road all to myself. Eventually I arrive at Milford, an outpost so windy that billboards routinely take flight. Perhaps that’s why the only motel has no signage and thus is extremely hard to find. Same goes for Penny’s Fifties-themed diner, which is open twenty-four hours a day in spite of the fact no one knows it exists.
Down the road I passed slowly through Minersville, captivated by windblown Halloween installations posted at every intersection. What a relief from the ubiquitous Mike Lee campaign signs—and not nearly as scary.
The purpose of my road trip was to pay a visit to my ailing brother in Ivins, but as per habit I followed a circuitous route to and from Washington County. For instance, I drove north on S.R. 16 to Veyo, where I came upon a road sign that sparked a distant memory of the time I hiked forty miles of the Old Spanish Trail with a group of hardy Boy Scouts. Rummaging through my boyhood files, I’ve come upon the medal I won by doing so, along with a pennant from the Bat Patrol, of which I was the leader!
People back then thought that I had leadership potential and perhaps one day might even run for public office. But that didn’t happen, because for one thing I could never win an election in Utah—not if winning elections means pocketing bribes and sucking up to the most disreputable person ever to stink up the Oval Office.
