I pushed from Las Vegas to Santa Fe, New Mexico stopping once to spread blankets on the ground and nap under vivid constellations; eating nuts, jerky and raw vegetables, drinking flawless spring water I drove a foreign car which steered like a tractor, rolling with barely space for a suitcase, ice chest and spare tire. After clutching and stick-shifting over all those miles I seem fresh in this photograph. I had just arrived, removed my boots first thing, then made this self-portrait on a mechanical camera. The grittiness of the fifty-year old transparency seems to enhance the nostalgic ambiance. Notice the exaggerated lapels on my disco-bright shirt; and the antiquated television plucking waves from the air using a single rabbit ear, reaching out and materializing a faraway quiz show. The epithet dingy best describes my lodging’s blemished carpet, draperies, walls and fixtures.