Ocotillo Wells is where Satan goes on spring break. A series of trailers and out buildings clumped around a desert highway, it has the look of an abandoned leper colony. Riding through its 108 degrees, the bike is overheating and I can hardly see straight. But it’s too hot to stop in this godforsaken wasteland. I’m already rethinking my life choices.
The Year of Living Aimlessly. 