Travel Center Rock Stars, Ep.24
- juliemorrisonwrite
- Jul 8
- 2 min read
Lisa turns a gas stop into a mid-trip happy place, with a throwback rest story for dessert, and Julie gives us a reason to care about Motor Vehicle Department experiences.
Mug: Grand Canyon State

From Chief Yellowhorse Lives On!”
by Lisa Schnebly Heidinger
My brother began referring to the Rock Springs Café as the “Dollar Steakhouse,” after years of my singing its economic and epicurean praises. Some folks say the pies…I like the canned vegetables and butter packets, alongside what I remember as rhapsodically good steak.
Many times making this run, I stopped at the Texaco Starmart at this exit. The man who worked the morning shift got used to me, and always merrily offered me a doughnut I always refused. Once when I was in line, the tourist in front of me had an unusual last name that the clerk noticed, and it turned out the two had grown up a few streets apart in a small Minnesota town. Their incredulity at a chance encounter after 40-some years choked me up; they laughed and slapped backs and pumped hands, and when they finally remembered me there, apologized profusely. “Are you kidding?” I said. “This is the best thing that will happen all week. I’ll tell this story again.” And I am.
Copyright 2003 Arizona Highways, Used with permission
Identity
by Julie Morison
Can I see some ID? She asks
tagging me and my bag
with the same question,
as though we are anonymous,
unclaimed- perhaps stolen-
unless an official document
names us- a document
of abbreviations, acronyms-
like BR for eyes, BR for hair,
a lie for weight, address
as a direction with digits-
please do not address me
as BR-
not my initials-
nor number me as a building-
an aging construction-
nor code me
for special security measures-
my measure is more:
more than letters or numbers
in a place at a time-
more than a record- official
or not- there is no recording
the whole me-
‘can I see some ID’ she asks
a second time,
because she’s finished with my bag,
and it’s habit- nevermind
that I’ve shown it,
am showing it, am it, myself,
a one-woman travel show
broadcast across every world
I touch in this moment-
can I see, she asked-
I want to reply,
I don’t know- can you?
Except that I can’t
because my ID is not
In my back pocket
where I always shove it,
after a security sweep,
or slotted
in its protective case,
then zipped close
For safe keeping-
my ID is nowhere-
and I can’t see
how I could have lost it.
Copyright 2025 Julie Morrison, All rights reserved
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