The people with innovative ideas here are turkey-whispering hunters and guys who drive old Toyota pick-ups and girls who work on their own cars and people who take the education they are given and do the very best they can with it. Whether that is from their great grand-dad or a super cool unicorn of a teacher they had their sophomore year of high school. You better believe some of the very smartest and most worldly people I know are from deep up some hollow. Don’t fuck with me on that.

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The dunes get bigger and bigger the closer I get. Oddly, the smell of gasoline starts to fill the air. Billboards with graphic colors show up beside the road telling me about Polaris and RZR and I start to understand, these dunes are off-road vehicle dunes. Driving into Glamis, dune buggies drive across the road and out into the dunes. They climb over the peaks as far as I can see. Serpentine tracks wind through the sand.

I pull into the gas station parking lot, people look at my sad rental car with disappointment as I walk into the dingy place. A middle-aged blonde woman is working the cash register, she is surrounded by an altar of t-shirts, cigarette cartons, and trucker hats.

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I relinquished my rental car keys and a little bit of my freedom and found a place that sold beer. Sitting at the bar I read my book and watched the winter Olympics play on the tv. The bartender flirted with a man from the kitchen in Spanish. They both giggled.

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Sam sang just like David Byrne. He made the same weird faces and did the same odd dance moves and my mom watched him and waited for him to do something great. We were all waiting for him to do something great.

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For prevention and control of the shrub, "Do not plant autumn olive."

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She called her hymns “heartcries to God.”

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