Escaped Vegas alive with intentions of making it to Cambria by nightfall. Broke down 30 miles outside of Barstow.
The locale is vaguely dystopian. Everything beyond the first freeway exit abandoned. The vast Mojave seems to be waiting to inhale Barstow with its next breath.
In any case, 16 hours later, I was rolling. And with some of the most impressive homestyle Mexican I’ve sampled.