An afternoon in the desert, me stuck in traffic, caught on I-17 heading north from Phoenix. On a freeway, that’s what they say here about motorways that don’t cost tolls. In the western United States, almost everyone is. The woman at the rental car counter in Phoenix had told me so, and she sounded a little proud.
A truck had overturned on Freedom Street. On the hard shoulder, the crazy flashing State Troopers cruised by. They headed for the monster black cloud gathering in the sky. I was behind the wheel of a “mid-size SUV” that seemed huge to me when I picked it up at the airport. But he was really only medium height.
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