I found a 7-11 in Hesperia and bought two gallons of water and a king-size bag of peanut M amp;M’s. Ought to hold me. I had three-quarters of a tank of gas and decided that should be adequate. According to Jarred’s map, I wasn’t heading more than fifty miles out into the desert.
With the open bag of M amp;M’s nestled in my lap, I munched away and headed east on Highway 15. As far as M amp;Ms go, I didn’t prefer one color to the other. Colors, to me, were a moot point anyway. Still, I often wondered what the M’s meant.
Twenty minutes later, I turned off Highway 15 and onto a narrow road called Burning Woman, instantly surrounded by a lot of rock and sand and heat.
I continued on and the deeper I got into the desert, the more I watched my temperature gauge. So far, so good. Hell, the bottled water was as much for my car as for me.
Occasionally, I checked my rearview mirror. No sign of a blue truck.
My windows were down. Sweat collected at the base of my spine. I sipped some water. Actually, a lot of water. The radio didn’t work. So I listened to the rush of wind past my open window and to the not so gentle purr of the Mustang’s rebuilt engine. There were no freeway noises out here. No honking horns or the rumble of Harleys.
This is nice.
Eerie.
But nice.
Per the map, I was to turn left onto a very small, winding road near a cluster of boulders. I soon found the boulders and made the left, using my turn signal because you never know who’s waiting behind a cluster of boulders.