Alone on the road, I found pleasure in some strange places.

On my trip I wore t-shirts, shorts and summer jeans, jamming my dirty clothes into a stuff-sack at the end of the day. Every week I’d need to do a load, so I kept a Ziploc bag of quarters in my glove box. If I weren’t staying in a hotel that had machines, I’d head out to the local laundromat. That’s where the action is — people who like to talk, owners who like to complain about the people who like to talk, and lots of TVs showing strange shows. This laundromat in Ft. Davis, Texas was empty, cool and very clean when I arrived. And when I left. I love laundromats for their sharp, clean smell and their purely utilitarian nature.