I finally made it to Gila Bend, AZ. I took “back roads” from Parker to Gila Bend. Not actually back roads, rather the old roads which have been bypassed by the freeways, leaving odd, rather depressing, little semi-ghost towns in its path. Every thirty miles or so was a wide spot on the road where someone had made their dream come true with a small business of their own out in the desert. Perhaps it was a little restaurant, or the shell of an old service station, or an forlorned laundromat with broken windows, great holes in the roof and spray painted graffiti on the walls. I couldn’t help but think of their excitement in starting a business, a few years of success, followed by utter failure – just leaving things as they were with outside furniture and once colorful signs disintegrating in the desert air. I stopped at one of these almost abandoned restaurants in the town of Hope to find that it was not abandoned at all. It was huge, with perhaps 40 or 50 dinner tables, two cocktail bars, a large outdoor barbecue party spot – and five people sitting at a table eating lunch. Obviously a party destination. They were clearly the owners and employees. The menu was huge, offering six pages of wonders. I had a pattimelt – it was very good but too big. Leaving town is a big sign saying, “You are now beyond Hope”.

My travel goal for the day was Gila Bend – for no particular reason other than the map indicated it is on a major highway and hence might offer accommodations. My route took me south under a major east-west freeway, continuing south for 30 miles or so then turning to the east in the general direction of Gila Bend. The long road south was desolate, much of it going through industrial sized farm country. No cars, no people, no buildings, just mile after mile of fields (mostly alfalfa). When I finally made it to the bend in the road, there was no bend – just a dead end! I back tracked most of the way back to the freeway, finally taking a paved road with painted lines to the east assuming it was in good enough condition to go somewhere. The road was not on my map or the car navigator, but that was how most of the day had gone. The map showed roads that weren’t there, and the navigator was unusually lost. My guess was correct, I eventually made it to Gila Bend.

Gila Bend is another once prosperous town that is now mostly ghost town. The town is a typical desert town consisting of a single strip road of businesses along the main drag, with housing and other facilities away from the highway. One side of town is backed up with the railroad, the other tapers off toward the hills to the west. There are many empty and derelict businesses, large motels, restaurants, insurance businesses, bars, etc. Now they are mostly boarded up with giant holes in the roofs and walls, a few have “For Sale” signs just in case someone might have too much money laying around.

I ordered a roast beef sandwich out of nostalgia from the days of traveling with my parents in the desert. For some reason that was one of my father’s favorites, so it was a common choice. I thought it was terrible, but I was the kid and they were paying. It turned out that the Space Age Restaurant serves the perfect RB sandwich – perfectly horrible, just like in the old days. Sliced, grizzly, roast beef on a piece of compressed and ugly white bread, a scoop of mashed potatoes, all buried under terrible gravy made from salty beef broth. It is disgusting to look at, and even worse to eat. I enjoyed my meal immensely, just like the old times. My room is comfortable, spotless, and quiet. Nothing much more to hope for.