Tucson. No, you’re somewhere else this very early morning. The sun scratches at your eyes through your closed lids, and you lift your stunned sleep-grogged head from the steering wheel and discover you’re outside Ira’s Bar in Nara Visa, New Mexico. Fear and disorientation take hold because you don’t remember getting here. You live 650 miles away. Just a ways down the road, relatively speaking, in terms of the vast open spaces of the great Southwest. Distances aren’t so great here. So, take a deep breath, reach over and turn the key, fire up that engine, turn the heater on to wear large holes in the blanket of the cold of dawn clinging to you, and head Southwest for those short 650 miles and stop a little ways down the road, when you reach Tucson, Arizona. It’s going to be okay, there.