I left the Syncro Safari today. Part of the reason I left was missing Dan. Part was the rain. And part was stark raving terror listening to people talk about mechanical problems they’ve had with their vans. (“What’s a voltage regulator and how do you know when it’s gone bad?” I’d ask. “How do you know when your water pump fails?” Etc.)

So I left the Safari and crawled 150 miles north under overcast, sometimes rainy skies to Carson City. I checked into a Super 8 motel, did laundry, and fixed a few minor things that were bugging me about my van.

I eat dinner at Garibaldi’s, an italian place at 301 Carson Street aka Rt. 395. Garibaldi’s is one of those old saloons made Italian by the addition of candles and red checkered tablecloths. Napkins stick vertically out of wine glasses. Folks have loud conversations at nearby tables, even though the restaurant is quiet and there is no music playing. At one table, a large man is talking about “the seriousness of the accusation” and “their lack of concern considering the serverity of the situation” to a tiny skinny woman who makes concerned, serious sounds. Nearby me one guy tells another about the trouble his ex-wife is giving him.

The restaurant looks like a traditional italian restaurant with a traditional italian menu. When the waitress begins reading the specials, however, things take a bizarre twist. Blackened scallops with salsa fresca, clam fritters, an eggplant crepe rolled around smoked salmon with a pasillo mole. The list goes on for a half-dozen each of appetizers and entrees.

I order the clam fritters, and they’re delicious. The crispy/chewy fritters are nicely offset by a (!) black chocolate mole sauce. I wonder aloud if the chef dreams of New Mexico, and the waitress answers that he’s from Old Mexico.

Next comes the cream of chicken soup (included). The waitress offers pepper and with a quick few turns of the mill, the top of my soup is entirely covered with small black nuggets. “Good” I say, and I mean it.

The eggplant parmesiana is a little too salty and a little too cheesy. I eat three quarters of it and then push it away. I’m stuffed. It’s only 6pm but I want to sleep.

Tomorrow I’ll head north to Burning Man.

Ron