1. Pink Knuckles on the Extraterrestrial Highway

Part 1--The Signs Were Everywhere

On a recent road trip across Nevada, buckled up, with the doors locked, I took a chance on driving the 98-mile Extraterrestrial Highway, aka SR375. I knew it was a gamble. I was alone. I’d come south from Ely. Almost there.

After a night of suspiciously timed thunderstorms, I brewed a morning mocha on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Maybe it was the oat milk. Perhaps the stevia. Or even the chocolate syrup. But I was quickly instilled with a buzzy kind of confidence, unfazed by the risk of alien abduction on the Extraterrestrial Highway. I’ll just call it the Ex Highway to save some letters.

By 8:00 am, I reached the northern end of the Ex Highway at the Warm Springs intersection. A large, weathered sign welcomed me to the infamous desert road. It was an eery-seeming place. A tumbleweed would have rolled silently across the highway here, had there been tumbleweeds. Had there been a breeze, the sign would have wobbled and creaked. Above, clouds were wafting, since clouds are known to waft on cloudy days.

I read the sign carefully, then looked around to see if reality was still real. It was. I got a good grip on my nerves and, of course, the steering wheel. I was doing this.

I pledged to make it a normal drive across the desert in my rented Outlander. Keep it under Warp 7. I knew it would be pink-knuckle driving all the way, but I was ready. I pointed the Mitsubishi to Crystal Springs and floored it. After slowly accelerating, of course.

The solitude and the miles themselves I could handle. I was less certain about making it past Area 51, the Air Force’s top secret testing range for experimental aircraft. Dare I ask, is the Air Force truly responsible for all the UFO sightings along this remote Nevada corridor over the years? Did they build the first flying saucers? Are they at it still? Or is it all a ruse? A cover for what’s really going on? Like, say, high-tech, super-secret alien engagement? Deep down, I think we all know the answer.

I should note that right behind the Ex Highway sign was a yellow sign, made to look like a normal road sign. I saw others too with blinking lights. They each contained a spooky image that I believe was intended to replicate a cow. But this was no common cow. It looked wild, intimidating, even alien. Horns up. Tail up. Ready to charge. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that it was just a sign. I continued on.

I looked out across the lonely desert plain, but saw nothing. Just loneliness, and a desert plain. And some bushes. However, I now had a clue. Cows must have something to do with the great mystery of the Ex Highway. Perhaps even Area 51. Yet I saw no actual cows. Not even a lizard. Very strange.

That ominous yellow sign had burned itself into my memory. Below the fearsome bovine image were the words “OPEN RANGE.” Surely it meant something, but what?

Moments later, I had another clue, another sign of what might lie ahead. This one contained no image at all, only the words “LOW FLYING AIRCRAFT.” I knew it! What I knew exactly I was still sorting out. But I know I knew it, whatever “it” was. I could just feel it. Cows and aircraft. A perfect pair, at least if you’re trying to obscure things from the public. Especially from those of us who ask too many questions. We know this is what the Air Force is prone to do.

Up ahead, were some darkish looking things on either side of the Ex Highway—not the clouds since they were darkish too—but these lumpy things were roughly the size of cows. As I closed in, I realized they were . . . actually . . . cows! They even looked like real cows. Brown with white faces. Herefords, I surmised. Nothing alien about them. It was quite unbelievable. It had to be a cover. This is the Ex Highway after all.

The alien cow image was still in my head and these were no alien cows. I’m not sure if random travelers like me are supposed to notice the difference. But I did because I’m quite observant when it comes to such things. For example, I can look at two glasses of water and tell you which one is hot and which one is cold. Provided, the hot one is still steaming. It’s uncanny.

I sped along, unfazed as before. I was not about to be fooled by any real cows. Instead, I was in the hunt for alien cows. Horns up, tail up. Spooky.

I passed more cows. Real ones again. Then I did a double take. Standing aside the others was one “cow” in particular that demanded my attention. She, I presume she was a she because I’m not sure why, had odd markings. Brown polkadots dotted her long, broad, white-ish face. And her left horn was crooked! Misattached at the lab perhaps? But alien for sure!

I slowed to a stop as she stared at me with a look that said, “You might want to move on, buster.” She did not even moo. It was very intimidating. I mooved on.

I was feeling quite perplexed now. Had I just seen a real-live alien? How could I know for sure? The answer reached me in a flash. Up ahead, a portable sign had been placed mysteriously along the road shoulder. Out here, in the Middle of Nowhere, as you may recall. It flashed the words, “DELAYS POSSIBLE.” I took it as a direct threat. From the alien cow.

That cow had looked me in the eye like an AI robot. I think she knew what I was thinking. It was enough to turn my pink knuckles pinker. The same exact sign then flashed the words, “ROAD WORK NEXT 45 MILES.” Another ruse, surely. Could it be code for 45 lightyears? Aliens could plausibly travel that far in a souped-up spaceship, though it would be a pretty long haul for a Mitsubishi. Nevertheless, this was getting serious. Then I remembered that I was unfazed. I stepped on the throttle and contemplated going to Warp 7.

No sooner than I’d gained a safe distance from the alien cow, my peripheral vision detected something overhead. Low-flying aircraft! There it was! It was a rather impressive contraption, all black, with mysterious flapping wings, one on each side. It totally resembled a raven flying down the center of the highway. Clearly, it was a drone. More AI. I was being watched.

The “bird” kept on a strict course, right down the centerline, acting as though it was searching for roadkill. But I wasn’t fooled. This phony raven was tracking my movement across the desert. Perhaps I already knew too much. Would the “bird” call for support? Was I myself about to be abducted? Plucked by the menacing claws of an artificial creature from another world? I nibbled some chips to calm myself.

Continue to Part 2 - The Mystery Resolved