|| Just outside Moab lies a ramshackle town that I’ve forgotten the name of. Broken down busses, RVs, a house or two without a roof, and one house with a landscape painted on its side. All this in the heat of the desert and everything regulated by a single stop sign. We stopped at the sign, looked around and the only thing in spitting distance was a post office. Someone delivers the mail, obviously, but who opens it in this town? ||