Week 8: San Francisco to Grand Junction

“Here we are,” said Bill, as I pulled my Jeep slowly into the junkyard. Row after row of derelict cars, trucks and buses formed a dense, metallic covering over this corner of California’s Owens Valley. Somewhere amid these rusting creatures I was going to find a campsite and settle down for the evening. Bill leaned over and cautioned, “You’ve got a tent or something to keep out the rats, right?” Suddenly, his offer of tent space didn’t seem as attractive as it did a half-hour ago.

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