After a detour into Colorado, i was back on 80 headed west. My first ride took me from Cheyenne to Rawlins where i was dropped off in town – right in front of a bar.
It was bright and sunny that afternoon. And as quiet as things were in town, that bar seemed like a good place to sit for a bit, have a beer, and relax before getting back on the road.
I opened the door to the bar and stood there for a moment while my eyes adjusted to the darkness inside.
And then, at the precise moment the place came into focus, the group of cowboys standing at the bar all turned toward the open door, straining to adjust to the blinding light pouring in from the street.
Oh shit, i thought to myself, this no longer seems like a good idea.
With two steps back and a turn to my left, i was gone. I was a few doors down the street before i was able to turn and see that no one had left the bar after me.
When i came upon a barbershop i decided to go inside and get a haircut.
Though there were four or five people already in the shop, i was first up and invited to sit down as the barber got up from his chair.
Unlike every other barber shop i had ever been in, this one was quiet. No jokes or talk about the weather. Everyone there was glued to the television set that sat on a shelf high on the wall near the corner of the room.
It was the slowest haircut i’ve ever had. It seemed like an eternity between snips of the barber’s shears. Everyone watched in silence and disbelief as Senator Dirksen coaxed a disturbing truth from the witnesses that day in May of 1973.