My plans burst the previous night, but I ventured into the wilds of Southern New Mexico anyway, to see what I could see. Even with every bit of necessary proof, my heart skipped a beat when I came across a citizenship verification checkpoint along highway 70. I reached for my wallet to present some ID, but the officer was just looking for a little verbal confirmation. With my accent pure from years of private education, I was able to answer him affirmatively, that I was, indeed, an American citizen, and despite my luscious beard, he let me through without any further conversation.

I arrived at the White Sands National Monument visitors center and purchased a $3 ticket to the park and a book of Ansel Adams’ National Park Photographs. I had vague plans of taking a hike through the desert, but even at 10am it was over 110 degrees outside, so I bagged that and simply sat on a dune, far enough from the screaming kids sledding on trashcan lids, and, in five minutes, got a moderate sunburn. Luckily I had already passed my American citizenship exam for the day.

Even whiter than me.

Back on the road, I decided to stop at the Hi-d-ho drive-in in Alamogordo (pictured in the banner), so I could get a little more gordo. I had a green chili “tiger” burger, milkshake and fries. If only that border guard could see me in that moment he would salute me with a tear streaming down his sun-baked cheek.

My next stop was Carlsbad Caverns, which is quite possibly the coolest place on earth, especially when you compare the temperature below ground (56) to the temperature above (112). I walked around 3 of the hundreds of miles of underground caves. At one point, millions of years ago, the caverns were under the ocean, and the amazing decorations, as they call them, were formed by mineral deposits, much like corral reefs (disclaimer: I am an idiot when it comes to science so feel free to correct me). The one thing I’m sure I learned is that stalagmites thrust mightily from the earth, while stalactites cling tightly to the ceiling. Anyway this place is really incredible and worth taking a trip to if you find yourself within a day’s journey of Carlsbad, NM.

Carlsbad Caverns: millions of years in the making

I drove until sunset and found myself in Fort Stockton, TX. That’s about all I have to say about Fort Stockton, TX. At least the Super 8 had a room with a treadmill so I could work off a little bit of the hi-d-ho.

…believe it or not.

Due to the heat, days start and end early in Phoenix. After a nice home cooked meal and a few glasses of Scotch my cousin, Andy, retired to bed. Having digested my steak, at least the part that’s digestible, apparently the rest of it will journey through my system over the course of the next few decades, I thought I would take a dip in their spacious pool. I asked Linda, my cousin’s wife, when the temperature outside would be under 100, to which she smiled and replied: October.

The next morning after breakfast I headed east towards New Mexico and the White Sands desert. The air was hot and dry, so dry that my sweat mercifully evaporated before it could wet my shirt. As I travelled the 440 miles between Phoenix and White Sands, I calculated my distance from the National Monument several times. I decided to skip lunch in Lordsburg New Mexico, despite their being not one but TWO places with at least a four star rating on yelp, because I couldn’t afford to lose an hour, especially as I crossed from Pacific to Mountain time at the Arizona/New Mexico border. My goal was clear, 7pm/twillight ranger led nature hike or bust. I breezed through Las Cruces, glibly taking a far better route than google maps suggested. I cruised onto US-70 East, past the White Sands Missile Testing range, I’d be at the park by 6:40, plenty of time to get situated and go for a light hike, and then it hit me… or I hit it. I can’t really blame the United States Air Force, because they probably weren’t the reason for the road debree, but something shredded my tire. Perhaps it WAS fragments of something detonated in the desert nearby, perhaps not, but I didn’t have time to waste. Now I was battleing the clock in a different sort of way. I had to change my tire and get back to Las Cruces before Sears closed, or I’d be stuck for the weekend.

I unpacked the trunk, pulled out the donut and lay on the road beside all of my belongings as I sweated to jack up the car. Having burst a few tires in my day, I was efficient and the tire was changed in about 15minutes. I crawled back to Las Cruces at 40 miles per hour. The people at the sears auto center were amazing. I go with a small business every time, but the convenience and service at sears was second to none, and they’re open until 8 on Saturdays. My wallet $150 lighter, I ventured to Nopalito’s where I had the #3 combination for $7. New Mexico is famous for their Green Chilies, but Nopalito’s also offers Red Chiles, so why not have both? Just ask for Christmas and you’ll get the best of both worlds. Nopalito’s doesn’t serve alcohol, so if you’re thirsty swing by an Albertson’s beforehand and pick up a six pack of Happy Camper I.P.A. This crisp, hoppy delight from the Santa Fe brewing company, comes in a sweet looking can emblazoned with the New Mexico state flag, and packs a punch and holds up nicely when paired with the rich spicy flavors of the chiles.

That night I stayed at the New Mexico State University Super 8, where the lovely concierge gave me a AAA discount despite my lack of a AAA card (which obviously would have come in handy earlier in the evening). Super 8 is the way to go when you’re travelling alone, have no one to impress, and want to save a little scratch.

On Friday I left Los Angeles for good. After four years I gained nothing professio

nally or financially, but I gained a little self respect the moment I put that place in my rear-view mirror. I’ll miss some of the people, a lot of the food, and most of the weather, but the “city” of Angels became unsustainable (the moment it was founded).

This was probably the nicest thing I saw on the close to 400 miles that connect Los Angeles to Phoenix via interstate 10.

That’s perfunctory enough.

It got hot the moment I crossed the 110 and headed east through San Gabriel. I tested my air conditioning and was reassured that running it might be a bad long term plan, especially if I planned on getting to Philadelphia in the Flying Dutch Master, rather than via several Greyhound buses.

About 130 miles inland, in the heat of the Palm Desert, is Cathedral City. I stopped in at El Gallito, where for a few meager pesos, amidst a bunch of old ladies with close cropped, impossibly peach and plum colored hair, I enjoyed a deliciously tender Chicken Mole. After a stressful twenty minutes searching for a gas station where I didn’t need to be a member to fill up (fucking Costco has taken over that town), I headed to Phoenix. The temperature gauge spiked from 97 to 111, as I idled on the 17N, caught in Friday rush hour traffic. My lip curled and I imagined the bottomless glass of Scotch my cousin Andy would be furnishing me with in just a few moments. It was so delightful to envision that my salty sweat tasted almost like highland peat. Finally, I arrived at my cousins’ home, and as I basked in the coolness of their central air, I thought of nothing but the day as it had been.