Return to the Heartland: Day 1

There is a real life definition of “desolation.” It’s in California along the Historic Route 66 between Ludlow and Exit 115 on Interstate 40.

I’m on my way back to the heartland, and this first of the four-leg trip was a test of endurance and patience. After dropping down from the Cajon Pass, there was nothing. It was desolate desert and brushland. Ugly. I hate the desert, and I hate the heat. In Needles, when we crossed the river on our way to Oatman, the outside temperature gauge in my car read 107º. Yuck.

A few things:

-The owner of the historic gas station in Amboy was packin’ heat. I think he had a Glock tucked away in a little holster. It went well with the Fox News on the TV behind the counter. I bet the channel hasn’t been changed in years.

-For some reason, my parents love to announce where they’re from and why exactly they are out west. (“Well, we’re form Iowa. We’re moving our son back from California.”) I keep my mouth shut.

-Despite the rampant nationalism, this part of Arizona (Williams, deep in the Kaibab National Forest) is very pretty. (As if Arizona’s jingoism had anything to do with the geography.) The western portion I traveled was just as bad as 66 in California.

-If you’re ever in Williams, don’t ever eat at Jessica’s Family Restaurant. Horrible. It’s supposed to be a Greek-Italian-American place, but it’s 100 percent shit.