Before I ran out of gas on Tuesday, I passed through Encino, NM. It’s a beautifully sad little town, seemingly destitute and forgotten, and I had to stop and take some pictures. Here’s what first caught my eye:
… which I’m pretty sure says a lot more about me than the town. (And if you’re from California, this Encino is nothing like that one. I didn’t spot one Valley Girl, despite the fact that I put out traps baited with Flock of Seagulls cassettes and huge neon-colored plastic earrings.)
Here’s Encino’s post office:
And the Catholic church:
And despite the “lo low rates,” the new owner of this business is probably out of it, maybe because of his or her spelling skills:
Or maybe because they picked such an unappealing motel to “menage:”
I especially loved this:
I’m still on the road, and on Monday I’ll post about my Roswell experience. But since I’ve shared some zany anecdotes lately I may have set the excitement bar too high, so I’m telling you right now: No, I was not abducted by aliens. There was no probing. Though I do have a strange lump on the back of my neck, which I’m secretly hoping may be some kind of metal implant. Or maybe it’s just a mosquito bite.