Turn on your red light

The coyotes are singing tonight. I think they’re somewhere out behind Freed’s Garage. Their voices sound eerie, yet weirdly beautiful.

I drove up to Santa Fe after breakfast today to buy bedding and look at rugs. I found some boring-but-utilitarian berber that should look pretty good in Unit Three, but it would cost me an arm and a leg to have it delivered, so I just settled for a few throw rugs and some matching towels and bedding.

Here is what I did when I got home:

Miss Shirley never could get this to light. I took the transformer out and cleaned it up this evening, and it works just fine now.

Joey says he likes it because it “looks like Christmas.” Once I got it working, he sat out here staring at it for the better part of an hour before he got cold and went inside. I’d like to have the sign out front restored, because it just doesn’t seem right to have a motel on Route 66 without a neon sign, but I think that’s going to be a summer project. There’s no point in having a fancy neon sign that looks better than the rooms it’s advertising, y’know?

— Sierra


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