Rancho Cordova

Andreas Paepcke

September 12, 2025

This here is my last entrance for this Trip. I'm in Rancho Cordova, a bit North of Sacramento. I couldn't handle neither the full distance to home, nor ending quite yet. The ride down I80 through 49 onto 50 was 103F, so I was glad to enter the frigid artificiality of my Best Western Plus. The Plus is maybe because the Doordash guy needed permission to get near my lofty third floor courtesy upgraded room.

The Plus did not include coordination between the front desk and the room organizer. The afternoon of my arrival I was engaging in evaporative cooling on my bed when someone entered the room with his master key. My inquisitive Yeeees? was met with an apology, and the Hispanish accented Room expection.

I'm reading the spy novels Slough Horses, so I am familiar with not truly being somewhere. I was clearly, credibly deniably not in room 326 of the Rancho Cordova Best Western Plus! The record wiped, only Front Desk knew of my existence.

The impressive thoroughness of that data firewall was confirmed today, when a knock on my Do Not Disturb marked door revealed another room coordinator, who expressed his surprise that I was in this room for a second night. Good thing I am not living in those spy novels, because he'd have been an assassin to whack me.

The 61st Annual Steam Threshing Jamboree. I was just too tired to go. It was the day of my dairy farm visit. But imagine: a competition of tractors pulling weights. Now, that I don't see at home.

I had mixed feelings about visiting the Wounded Knee museum. It was right across the street from my motel, though it sounded depressing. But my mother would have admonished me that you can't just skim off the happy.

So, I was determined to go. With all that mental preparation, it actually was a let-down that the exhibit was no longer there. I should look this event up. But haven't yet. I assume this was a massacre of Indians. But maybe I'm wrong!