On our way to Garden City, I asked Shelley if she liked living in the middle of nowhere. "I hate it," she said. "I grew up a city girl, I love cities. Some kids are military brats, I was a Boeing brat. My dad worked for Boeing, so I grew up all over. I was born in Roswell, New Mexico then lived in California, Seattle, then utlimately Witchita. I went to Witchita State for 2 years and studied small business. I wanted to be a consultant of sorts, doing interior design and wedding plans, then I met Dan. He went to school to study agriculture. He grew up on the farm and only wanted to be a farmer. When we got married we moved to Scott City so Dan could farm. When you live out here, there's only two things a woman can do, be a farm wife or be a teacher. After we moved out here, I went back to school and had to drive 90 miles every day to go to class to get my degree in special education. A couple of years later, I got a job teaching third grade in Dighton. Since I have a degree in special education, I also got all the problem kids, still have them."

"How come you left Scott City to live on the farm?"

"Scott City was too small. Too many busy bodies, everybody wanted to know everything about you and everything you're doing. The farm gave us a little privacy. The people in these towns don't have anything to do except listen to the police scanner. Most of the time, they know what's going on before the police do. When you come into school the next morning, all the old ladies are sitting around gossiping about what happened on the scanner the night before."

"Think you'll ever leave here?"

"I hope so. Philip wants to go to school at the University of Washington in Seattle. If he goes there, then Dan and I will try to sell what we have and move up there to follow him. I really like Seattle and would just love to leave Kansas."

"What would Dan do?"

"Farm. All along Puget Sound, there's lots of agriculture. It's not hog farming or growing corn and wheat, but they grow lots of vegetables. Dan's really talented and can do lots of things. He's a mechanic, a plumber and an electrician. He can do it all, he just doesn't have his license, so no one will hire him because of insurance, but he could do what he wants."

When we got to Garden City, we found the town's only bike shop, "The Tinker Shop." It was a perfect name, since they seemed to only tinker in bikes. The shop offered everything from a key cutting service, which they had more key blanks than bike parts, to knives, to camping equipment, to bikes. On the back counter, a red construction paper sign with black magic marker informed customers that they had throwing knives, hunting knives, self-defense knives, and pocket knives. Next to the knife sign was another construction paper sign that warned "Bicycle riding can be dangerous."