Early one morning, I went down to Budget, picked up a roomy white Dodge Intrepid, packed it full of equipment and supplies, and hit the road. My target: San Francisco.

The first leg of my 4-day journey took me across the flat plains of Kansas towards Denver on Interstate 70. I have only made this drive a handfull of times, but I can tell you that it is one of the most boring drives ever. Even worse than Nebraska, Iowa or central Illinois. The road hypnosis is awful, especially in winter. This is because the I-70 stretch is totally devoid of features. All you can pretty much see for 400 miles is an endless sea of wheat. If you are lucky, there will be clouds.

It was not until Colorado that things became interesting. I came across a small town called Flagler that had a park with some military aircraft and a missile of sorts. Eventually, I made it to Denver and turned north on I-25. Before long the traffic on I-25 had come to a standstill and you could see it backed up all the way to the horizon. When the exit came along, I diverted over to state Highway 85 and continued my path North towards Cheyenne.

Along the way, close to the Wyoming border, I noticed a number of sleek, power-generating windmills. I briefly stopped to photograph them with an old water-pumping farm windmill in the foreground for contrast.