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The hard-copy map on your dashboard insists that you're going from one town to the next, but you don't see anything, just the road and distant lights. From the highway, even Albuquerque is just a blur of low buildings and exit ramps. Past Santa Fe, the landscape grows more lush, with scrubby trees lining the highway and the distant hills dotted with green—subtle hues visible to your sensitive eyes.

The drive takes you through lots of towns named after bigger towns. The landscape grows rocky and pale cliffs rise beside the road. You stop at the last all-night gas station to fill your Nissan's tank, then head into a wild and unGoogled landscape that stretches flat all the way to…St. Louis, for all you know. There's no radio out here, so you try to enjoy the sound of the engine, because you don't want anything on your disposable phones.

No trouble, though. No tails. No weird unmarked cars. No circling eagles—for now.

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