“You gotta shoot the bear when the bear is there”, the old saying goes. While it may have originally referred to hunting in some fashion, it holds true for photographers too. There is one difference, however, when we  shoot it is without loos of life or limb, at least not to the subject. On a recent trip to Death Valley, I had a “shot the bear” experience. We stopped for lunch at a wide spot in the road, in the middle of the day, when the light is harsh and the shadows intrusive. But the place had so much character I knew I had to take some photos. So after lunch I grabbed my camera and took a look at the old abandoned gas station and a rusty, old mid-thirties Chevrolet. The scene screamed  “black and white”. The museum caretakers inside the old service station had baited passers by with a scene out of the movies, an old sedan gassing up in the hot dessert. Who could resist?

The Mojave Dessert is a harsh place. Even the water goes underground to avoid being swallowed up by the harsh sun. Unlike other places in the southwest where the barren cliffs and sandstone are contrasted by cottonwood or other trees, the Mojave is full of small shrubs and cactus. The only trees being of the Joshua variety. Because the environment is so harsh, old, rusted, beat up and abandoned property tell the story of making a living in one of the world’s largest desserts.

Bumpers missing, windows blown out, flat tires, and disentigrated seats all add character to this scene. Gazing at the old Chevy my mind slipped away to the old family sedan gassing up under the awning of the old station. I envision an old man, cigarette hanging from his lips, a bit plump in his overalls, and shoes so scuffed up they only protect the top of his feet from the scortching sun. With a big grin on his face, his offer to pump gas and check the oil, which will need a quart, seems to be all he lives for. Any customer in this hot desolate place brightens his day and serves as a brief reprieve from the merciless heat. He knew they were coming because with only one road, he saw them miles away. “Would you like a cold soda from the machine? If you stay and drink it you won’t have to pay the recycle deposit. Be sure and put the bottle on the side of the machine when you’re done”, he calls out in a friendly voice.

Returning to my senses, I see new cars are parked a couple of feet away. The old water tower is sitting on a few railroad ties just a few feet next to the station and rusty ol’ Chevy. It isn’t in any better condition than the car.

I know I’m waxing a little nostalgic, but back in the day you would have been gratefull for the stop, the gas, and the soda. From here Death Valley wasn’t too far away and the cries “Are we there yet” were only squelched, not silenced, as the all too small but cold soda was wolfed down by the kids from the back seat.

Well, here’s a few pictures to help you go back with me on a journey to a day when Dessert bags, no air conditioning, and speeds around 50 miles per hour made a journey in the Mojave a very different experience.