Flat. The great big middle of America is flat. From an airplane window you can see the round irrigation circles arranged neatly in the grid of agriculture. I never thought much of it until I was amongst the flatness. I didn’t think it was anything to see. But standing in it, I can’t deny the feeling of infinite possibility in a place with so much space and so few bounds. Vast fields roll off into the farthest distance, equal parts sunflowers and sky.Read More
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.Read More