I remember speeding past a row of broken trucks, their heads bowed in prayer. Along old Route 66 in the Mojave desert, you’ll find a string of towns with mythic names: Amboy and Bagdad, Ragtown and Siberia. Lately I’ve been combing through my photographs from these drives, dreaming of the day I find my way back. It’s becoming a nightly habit during this suspended season in a hushed city: scrolling through desert scenery while fantasizing about horizons, speed, and possibility.
The town of Zzyzx was known as Soda Springs until 1944 when a radio evangelist rechristened it with a nonsense name, hoping it would be the last word in the English language. Out near Frenchman Flat, there’s a woman who will tell your fortune by deciphering the contrails of experimental military aircraft.
