Take me home, country roads

I'm back.

I'm in Utah. I never, ever thought I would be here again.

I took a trip to Driggs, Idaho two months ago, my first week back in Utah. Driggs is in the middle of nowhere, with a great view of the Tetons, the house where we stayed was in a field a few miles off of the highway.

Early one morning, I set off down the dirt road to walk through the fields. In the distance, a car approached. It was a green that hasn't been seen since the 1970's and were it in New York or Chicago, I would have known that I should quickly get out of that part of town. I was pondering what sketchy gangsters were doing in the middle of Idaho as the car continued to approach.

Suddenly, out of the ancient, reptilian back of my brain rose the thought, "Raise your hand, Raise your hand!" That is so weird, I thought. Why would I raise my hand? My arm moved faster than my logic and I raised my hand. The man at the steering wheel also raised his hand as he passed.

"Oh, they do that here," I said to myself. I faintly remember waving at strangers on country roads as a kid and I guess the memory stored itself somewhere. I continued walking and started doubting. Maybe people used to wave at strangers, but surely no one actually does that anymore. Another car approached as I continued walking. This time, I fought the urge to wave. The man at the steering wheel raised his hand and waved at me as he approached. I waved back. I was elated. I was relearning country girl ettiquette. I could make it in Utah again after all. Maybe I'd even feel at home again someday.

Another car approached. I waved my hand at the driver and passenger and neither of them waved back. I was disgusted. Geez, tourists.