As the coastline slipped away, miles of desert stretched out before us. In a small coupe pointed north, we pressed on into the dry heat that enveloped the car.
With carmel frappucinos in hand, we turned eastward. “Wilmington, NC 2,445 mi” – a site we wouldn’t see in the near future. While cacti and desloate mountains passed by our windows, cool summer afternoons on the Atlantic were only a fantasy.
Even still, spirits soared inside that hopeful Honda. Two pairs of eyes darted about, soaking in the ever-changing landscape. Eventually semi-arrid desert gave way to something greener and more vibrant. The land was calling us home.
Our hearts were lifted upward as we reached the evening’s stopping point. A quaint town centered on a historic road offered to house us. We accepted graciously as its people and its environment welcomed us.
Wandering from shop to shop, we noticed that strains of music filled the air. Every restaraunt offered a live performer. Where gaps may lie between diners, locals enlivened the streets. Five women gathered beside a pick up, singing and dancing as one pounded on her Martin six string. Across the block, an authentic Civil War band provided a free show. The city’s charm was unavoidable.
–Williams, AZ 080203