Awoke: Elephant Butte, NM
Speedo: 64,049
Miles: 645

A man and his daughter are talking. The little girl’s voice sounds so young. I wake up and look outside. It is beautiful again today. I’m going to Las Cruces now.

I get out and find the interstate again. I get off on US 70 East. There are missile ranges that close the highway at least twice a week or at any time, according to the signs. That’s really fucking creepy. I’m starting to get over New Mexico. It’s beautiful and I love how it feels here, but the mountains and scenery are becoming homogenous, for the purposes of photography. I’m ready to be in Texas, and then I’ll be ready to be out of Texas, surely. My Gramma lives in Memphis and I’m just ready to be there for a few days of sleep and showers. I start my day.

I drive and eat cashews until I get to White Sands National Monument, a sandy novelty in the middle of mountains. It’s pretty and soft, but mostly uninteresting. I’m starting to feel rushed and panicky about leaving. I’ll ready to be out of New Mexico by sundown. I spent too long hiking at White Sands and it’s still very fucking windy. I drive under the speed limit, almost hit tumbleweeds, and a dust storm blows me off the road and onto the shoulder.

I stop in Roswell, New Mexico after a sign tells me the road to Artesia (the one I wanted to take) increases a few thousand miles in not a lot of highway and I said hell no and turned around and ended up in Roswell. They totally play up to the alien stuff and there are alien gift shops everywhere. I guess I look homeless now because a preacher stops me and gives me a card and says if I need any help to call. I tell him I’m on a road trip and I’m not homeless and he says Roswell is a nice place to live and I could get a job at the Pizza Hut down the road and how helpful the people are and nice the town. I tell him I’m not even halfway done with this road trip and he looks at me like I’m lying. The visitor center, where I’m using a computer, closes; I leave Roswell. I will probably never be there again in my life. The preacher said everyone passes through Roswell at some point. He tells me he was an alcoholic and addicted to pornography and that he was saved. I throw his card away. It will clutter my car and I will never be back here.

It’s now five-thirty. There is no way I’ll make it to Texas before dark. So I drive more on the highway and there is nothing but plains, plains, and flatland and I stop at an Allsup’s in Tatum, New Mexico, about twenty miles from the Texas border. I ask if I can use their bathroom to clean up and I might take about ten minutes and the lady says that’s alright and asks why I’m here. I tell her about my project and that I plan on sleeping in the parking lot and she tells me she’ll tell the town cop, Petey, to watch out for me during the night and asks if I want someone to wake me up in the morning. I tell her I’ll wake up with the sun but thank you and I won’t forget her kindness when I really needed it. I wash up. I call my best friend Jason and we talk for a while. He tells me about his routines and now I have routines with this trip and it feels stable to do certain things at the same time each day:

I wake up wherever I am and find a place to wash up. I stop around noon every day and focus on eating instead of munching while I drive. I stop whenever I want. I watch the sunset and make sure I’m parked for the night so I can get out and watch.

The patrolman taps on my window and asks if I’m Jeremy. I say I am. He says I’m Petey, I’ll watch out for you tonight and asks if I’d rather sleep in his driveway he lives just down the road. I tell him this is alright and he asks if I need food and I tell him I have a whole trunk full of food but that I appreciate the thought. I wake up two times in the night and see his headlights. He makes sure I’m still alright and is really quiet so I don’t wake up so I pretend to be asleep so he doesn’t think he woke me up. I wake because I can’t really sleep this way. I feel gratitude for these people want to watch out for me here.

I talk to a lady and ask her what the hell they do around here. She tells me she drives thirty miles to the grocery store and an hour whenever she wants something bigger, and says her commute to work is forty-five minutes and there’s nothing to do around here but she enjoys the peace.

I eat some berries and cereal and have some water and a liquid meal for dinner right before bed because I’m hungry again and then I fall asleep a little more deeply than usual because I know Petey is watching out for me.

Today I drove by lots of plains and tumbleweeds and saw White Sands in erosive wind and heard missiles and tomorrow I’ll be in Texas. I already feel a little leaner and a little tougher. I take pictures of the sunset behind town, which is so small and so rural. I can still see the lights from the gas station. Tonight I experiment and see if I can sleep in the front seat and I lean it all the way back and pad myself on the sides so I’m held still and I lay on blankets and pillows and my legs are able to stretch a little more than before. This feels good and feels better and the patrolman will check on me and I have a good, deep sleep in Tatum, New Mexico, very close to the Texas border.

Route: I-25S to 70E

White Sands, Socorro, New Mexico 4-28-05