The drive out on the 10 East was blissful desert. Not many trees or streams to tarnish the bronzed skin of the land. We had ten CD's of music as a soundtrack to our journey. I was unshaven, feeling like a rogue. Around Blythe I realized that my Don Johnson circa Miami Vice look would make it harder to pass off our little pranks so we peeled into the driveway of a truck stop pushed right up against an exit.
Every truck stop is about fifteen times larger than it needs to be and bright as a bastard.
That way, when you're traveling the lonely road at night you can see Eden. The bathrooms, however, are not anywhere close to the birthplace of civilization. I shaved in a sink and could see only half my face in the cracked mirror. But I looked like a million dollars and swaggered out. Gas was going to be a big concern.