As we hit the Arizona border I see a huge storm to our right, a wall of black clouds ripped by sky-length, angry bolts of lightning. We’re at its edge, racing at 85 mph to stay ahead of it. The rain sprays at us huge drops but we manage to stay just barely ahead. We stop, get gas as quickly as possible and head out again. I’m congratulating myself on staying ahead of the storm. . . .and notice that I’m driving straight into a second one. I’m looking at a huge, slate gray wall of clouds and lightning. Suddenly everything is black. The wind drives hard from the north, violent gusts slamming the car and shoving it into the left lane. I have to slow down to 55 mph. The raindrops seem as large as golf balls hitting the car, bursting on the road and splaying upward. In the distance ahead of us is then intense and beautiful red-gold light of the setting sun, but I can’t take my eyes off the road to do more than glance at it. It might be light up ahead, but we’re still in the middle of a violent storm. As I fight to keep control of the car and creep along at 40 mph, Leigh is twisting around looking for the camera. “I’ve got to get that shot! That sunset! It’s beautiful!” After the storm we stop at a Burger King and buy some kind of huge Angus burgers. Determined to make as many miles as we possibly can, we hop back in the car and continue westward. Leigh has determined that we should make Gila Bend. Then we only have 300 miles left to San Diego. Travel hint: trying to eat an Angus burger at 80 mph is not safe. I eat with hunger but without enjoyment. We race through the Saguro cactus area and I realize that one of the scenes in TPS is with Saguro. I want desperately to get some shots, but it’s too dark and we’re on I-8. As Poul would say: Damn! We reach Gila Bend at 8:30 and pull into the parking lot of the Best Western Space Age Lodge. It’s totally dark. I mean the parking lot, motel sign, space lights. Everything’s black. We check in. As we leave the lobby, the lights suddenly come on, like an instant runway. A repairman walks by. “Thanks for the grand reception,” I say. “Do you do this every night? He laughs. “No, we popped a breaker in a storm earlier and just fixed it.” It’s hot in Gila Bend. Even though it’s near 9 p.m. it still feels like it’s 80 degrees outside. Well, it probably is. I have to trudge the whole length of the Best Western for ice. I ask the woman at the desk if she could fill the ice bucket and the plastic liner for our cooler. “How about if I fill a large plastic bag for you?” She asks rhetorically. I thank her profusely and haul the 20 pound bag of ice back to the room. Ah, yes, a long, hard, interesting day of farmer’s markets, White Sands, desert storms and miles and miles. A cool room, a cool drink. Life’s good at the moment. Leigh is happy and I know I did the right thing. She wants to see her mother and her mother’s new kitchen. I don’t understand the meaning of this, but I do understand the importance.
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