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I took Highway 111 south, passing through the towns of Coachella, Therht For long stretches, there were only the two lanes of asphalt, powdery dirt on either side, the body of water, shi desert heat At intervals, I would pass a citrus grove, an oasis of shade in a valley otherwise drubbed by unrelenting sun

I drove through Calipatria Later, I heard area residents refer to a town I thought was called Cow-pat, which I realized, belatedly, was a shortened version of Calipatria The only land doith one brick column that looks like it’s been chewed on by rats It’s actually earthquake daods Fifteen miles south of Calipatria is Brawley On the outskirts of town, I spotted a abond was a two-story L-shaped structure of perhaps forty roole and was directed to room 20, at the far end of the walk I eased my car into the space out in front, where I unloaded the duffel, the typewriter, and the cooler

The roo The carpet was a two-toned green nylon in a shag long enough to old floral print, flowering vines of so above the double bed showed ain lakewater up to his knees The painted -just a little decorating hint froh to Henry to tell his, christened the toilet bowl, and took off again, tracking north as far as the little hamlet of Niland

I pulled in to ould have passed for a curb had there been a sidewalk in view I asked a leather-faced rancher in a pair of overalls for directions to the Slabs He pointed without a word I took a right turn at the next corner and drove another h flat countryside interrupted only by telephone poles and power lines Occasionally, I crossed an irrigation canal where brown grasses hugged the banks In the distance, to the right, I caught sight of a hillock of raw dirt, crowned by an outcropping of rock painted with religious sentie Whatever ritten under it, I couldn’t read Probably a Bible quote There was a dilapidated truck parked nearby with a wooden house built on the back, also painted with exhortations of some fundauard post when the originalAll that rehtly bigger than a telephone booth I drove onto the old base A few hundred yards down the road, a second guardhouse had been painted sky blue Evergreens were outlined on the face of it, elcome to painted in black letters on the roof line and slab city in an arch of black letters on white, hite doves flying in all directions god is love was lettered in two places, the paint job apparently left over fro in the desert perishes- except the wildlife, of course The air is so dry that nothing seeh much of the year, preserves more than it destroys I’d passed abandoned wood cabins that had probably been sitting empty for sixty years

Here, in the endless stretch of gravel and dirt, I could see nu open to dispel the heat Trailers, RVs, tents, and pickup trucks with cahborhoods The wide avenues were defined by clumps of creosote and n, propped up against a stone, read 18TH st

Along the est flea markets had been laid out The tables were covered with odds and ends of glass, used clothing, old tires, used car seats, defunct television sets, which were being sold "cheep" A hand-lettered sign announced holes dug odd jobs There was not a buyer in sight I didn’t even catch sight of any residents A United States flag flew fros as well, all snapping in a hot wind that whipped up the dust Here, there were no TV antennas, no fences, no telephone poles, no power lines, no perypsy air, varicolored awnings offering protection from thedog

I pulled over to the side of the road and parkedout I shaded my eyes and scanned the area Now that ht, I could see that there were actually people in view: a couple sitting in the open doorway of theirfrom one aisle of vehicles to the next No one seemed to pay any attention to ers was apparently so commonplace that my presence elicited no interest whatever