A scene from the streets of Bonanza.

Road trip time is here.

I was born under a wandering star, like Lee Marvin, except my voice is higher and I’ve lived in the same house for 34 years. To counteract the seeming incongruity, I occasionally let myself off-leash to satisfy two fingers’ worth of wanderlust.

This time, Bonanza was the unsuspecting target.

I can prove it by the kamikaze bug blanket covering Giovanni the indignant Honda. They poured down on us like a summer cloudburst with Krazy Glue on their wings. My windshield looked like a Pollock painting had he used insects. I saw a couple diehards — Midge and Nat — hanging on for dear life as I repeatedly gave the cleaning lever the gun, thereby creating a nat-ural midgemash. Are you still with me?

I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Bonanza since my daughter Emily played them in 2A volleyball. So, I grabbed Lane for a ride-along to see what else Bonanza offered the casual observer. This is not where Hoss lives. The Cartwrights owned the Ponderosa, which is in Nevada. Some friends have gotten confused. The drive over was green and gorgeous, with lush pastures, full-flowing canals and fat cattle.

The park first beckoned, since my nap was overdue. We spread the ubiquitous cow blanket on the grass beneath a shady tree in Big Springs Park and immediately became the focus of a rambling dog. He sniffed us and received a head pat, but we had no snacks so were of little use. Next stop was the Bonanza General Store. I love general stores. You can almost always find great fishing tackle and small jars of mayonnaise there. We hit the jackpot when I fell upon an aisle with old timey candy bars: Look, Big Hunk, Idaho Spud, Zero, Rocky Road. They were all there poking the kid in me. I took a Big Hunk, and we headed for the street. I mean, I bought it, OK?

As some of you may recall, we enjoy wandering around naively in small towns, waving at residents, and sticking out like sore thumbs. Afoot is really the only way to see the details of any town. You just never know what resident dog you might infuriate or who you will meet walking down side streets. Take Mayor Betty, for instance.

There she was, weeding her yard when up we walked. I think she was glad to put the hoe down and grant me an impromptu interview. Mayor Betty Tyree was born in Arkansas and, after a short time near Fresno, California, her family with eight kids moved to Bonanza when she was 15. She’s lived there for 65 years. She has been the Bonanza mayor 43 of those years. I wondered what does a mayor do in Bonanza?

“The mayor does a little bit of everything,” she said, chuckling. “When I first took over in 1979, we were knee-high in weeds up and down every street. It was just a mess. I tore down a lot of old buildings. I got people to go along. We didn’t have any paved streets or just a couple when I took over, now everything’s paved.”

Betty takes pride in her town, as do the townsfolk. They’d just held a spring clean-up campaign, which reflected in the neat yards and manicured surroundings.

Betty continued, “We’ve come a long way. We only have about 415 people. When I took over, I think we had about 200, so we’ve grown some. We have a lot of retired people. Agriculture and cattle are big, and we have a dairy farm just outside of town.”

When I visit small towns, I’m often reminded that everything is relative, even expectations. Maybe especially those.

“We have just about everything you need here to survive. The thing I push for and I’m not sure I’ll get it in my time — I’m trying to get a bank branch. We’ve got five churches. We have a little library. Everybody knows everybody here.”

Bonanza has a big chili cook-off and car show happening in the park this coming July 29. Betty says it’ll be big. “We’ll have hundreds of people.”

“Things change, and I stay the same,” Mayor Betty added. “I could tell stories forever.”