Doing 95

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Still in our early rising mode, heading out of Vegas in the six o'clock hour, before the crush of noise and heat. The road north is surprisingly big and smooth, even well after the city has given way to desert. And the desert is suprisingly beautiful, dusty expanses of scrub framed by flanks of mountain. Like a spare work of art, it's about light, movement, presence. There's a lot of mystery in the desert, mysterious buildings, abandoned contraptions, unexplained shadows. Whoever it was at Rand McNally who didn't mark this route as scenic should be ashamed.

At Amargosa Valley we find only one business open, but that one offers the best breakfast we have had--authentically light biscuits, authoritatively crisp bacon. Outside, the mailbox cautions, 'Prevent Identity Theft, Do Not Put Mail in This Box After the Last Listed Pickup Time.'

In the afternoon, the mountains fall away on our left and the road drags us through a flat patch of drabness, but soon we turn west and reach Reno, nestled in the lap of the Sierra. At the Holiday Inn, Leslie asks for a room with a mountain view, and the view makes our room feel like a royal suite. Blue skies ricochet clear light off of snow-clad sierras until the sun sets behind them. And as the soft air of evening folds the mountains into the darkness, the lights of the casinos come up in green, pink, and gold. It's hard to believe what an enchanting sight this is. You can hardly take your eyes off of it. The surfeit of tawdriness makes this row of concrete hulks into something almost inspiring.

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Photos

Two-track minds...
the desert is full of mysterious references to aliens and not-so-mysterious references to the brothels that operate out here. This lucky find combines both!

In Reno!
The view from our hotel room. We're livin' like rock stars...