It didn’t really matter which direction we traveled. West to East, or, East to West. From my back seat I would peer out the window and look up into the endless small canyons which lay to the south side of the highway. There, would be my secret laboratory. The base from which I would go out from and explore the world. A castle of my mind with every conceivable need spread before my eye. There, out from Van Horn, in the monotony of endless miles were desires that were to never be. My finger keeping my place within the Terror In the Navy; my mind having need to be elsewhere, I would stare off, up into those canyons; looking for my fortress of solitude. They were really wonderful miles. The back seat would have to do.
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