There is a section of Interstate 80 that snakes across northern Nevada, linking Utah to desert to Elko to desert to Winnemucca to desert to Reno. One of the loneliest highways in America, the stretch is populated by burners, tattoo artists, neon signs, and a kind, welcoming community of like-minded adventurers. It is a place where you leave your shampoo and forget to sleep and play pool all night as you smoke cigarettes and talk loudly about sex over a duet of banjo and guitar. A place where you make plans that you know you won’t keep—not for lack of wanting—but because in the morning you’re going to slip away and speed off somewhere new. Because that’s how it goes. It was our place, if only for that night.

When you’re traveling, you are what you are, right there and then. People don’t have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road.

 William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways

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Grace Mendenhall is a sci-fi lover and yoga enthusiast who gets paid to edit videos sometimes. She graduated from the College of William and Mary with a BA in Philosophy, then studied documentary photography and multimedia at the Salt Institute in Maine. She’s a native of Austin, Texas, but has lived all over the States. Now, she spends most of her time in the Bay Area, enjoying the sunshine and artisan toast. You can find her on tumblrInstagram, or through her website.