Credit card back in my wallet, Pete and I pushed southeast and picked up Interstate highway 10 toward Tucson. A long straight road underneath the sun meant the Sebring’s roof stayed down as we basked in Arizona’s warm winds enveloping our journey.
We made it our standard operating practise that as we travelled to our next destination, whoever wasn’t driving flicked through the guidebook and picked a spot for accommodation–in Tucson the bohemian Hotel Congress with Art Deco furnishings and a “lively bar downstairs” seemed the best fit.
The most striking thing driving into town was the kaleidoscopic sky above the distant hills, laden with swathes of clouds painted gentle hues of purples, reds, oranges and pinks. It was a nice welcome.
Another nice surprise was getting a message from a mutual friend of ours, Drew, also taking his post-operational Afghanistan tour leave and who also happened to be in Tucson—small world. He’d…
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