Two friends drive me ten miles into the desert, north from the highway, away from the bus stop where they had met me on my arrival. We had planned to go farther together, thirty miles, to a place called Stone Tanks - the first natural water hole - but the unmarked dirt road becomes obscure, then difficult, soon impossible. If we drive any further we'll wreck the car; a low-slung, under-powered, high-geared luxury machine designed for the autobahns of Europe, not for sand, rock, brush, the Sonoran wasteland.
- A Walk in the Desert Hills in Beyond The Wall
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