When I first laid eyes on the Arizona desert, I thought I was on Mars.
Desolate. Barren. Full of bizarre rock formations and dangerous creatures.
Basically, death waiting at every corner in many forms.
After driving around and visiting a number of places, I’ve gotta say that it’s growing on me.
I still stare at the mesas.
Black Mesa. Red Mesa. First Mesa. Second Mesa.
Arizona is chock full of mesas, and not just in the open desert.
These people love their mesas so much, they have thoughtfully created a mesa out of every parking lot in town.
It’s impossible to get in or out of any of them without scraping both the front and back of a Prius.
I guess that’s why they all drive pickup trucks.
Over time, though, I’ve even grown to appreciate those little parking lot mesas with every SCRAAAAPE of the bumpers.
Just another of the rough edges that give Arizona its special character.