Its February, Southern California's feeble attempt at a winter has given over to days slightly warmer than the last, and we are on a road trip.

Each year this same time my wife and I join up with friends and drive south east on a trip we simply call 'The Desert'.  The destination is implied by the name of course, but in this small community of freaks the bigger story is made of some first class weird stuff.

Slab City is an RV community on the fringes of the Salton Sea, where some folks have dropped out and laid claim to home in a string of sandy hills in what feels like the middle of nowhere.  It is here we go, this band of bikers, weirdos, artists and crafty folk, to exist temporarily as noisy neighbors to Slab City.  

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If you don't want any art in your desert, don't bring it with you

Our fun is all over within four days, but not before riding motorcycles naked through flame throwers, blowing up a car, and generally trying to avoid local cops whilst tripping on acid.

I mean, I didn't do any of those things, but I saw it all, and it was some kind of beautiful.

I did catch a firework with my face during a death metal rave, burning a hole in my cheek, but thats another story.

Favorite moment: a guy half dressed as some kind of space elf plus makeup running down a steep dune screaming "this is the last free place in America!" into a loud hailer.  Free indeed.  We don't do free like this back home!

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Construction of the motorcycle ramp delayed by dusk