The miles markers raced by. The relentless
sun
hung high, letting it's light cast down upon
the land. I slowed the car as the The
Mailbox came into view. I pulled off onto
the gravel road along side it and stopped the
car. I stepped out into the desert heat as
the brisk summer wind whipped across the
valley. Beside me was the Mailbox, to the
west was the Jumbeled Hills, beyond them lied
Area 51. Dreamland airspace was quiet.
The E.T. Highway seemed endless,
disappearing in both directions. It wasn't
the
first time I had found myself there, making
that same observation, and somehow I doubted
it would be the last. It was a unique place,
here the mundane could seem mystical, the
implausible could seem plausible, and if you
looked hard enough, the impossible could
start to seem likely.
One thing I have come to learn about this
particular part of the desert, mirages such
as those are common.