Each time driving by, I’ve wanted to take a picture of this old factory. This time through, I did.

The Ranch House Cafe had been serving great food for decades, under several different names over the years. So sad to see it closed.

You’ve most likely zipped past this abandoned service station, if you’re a Hwy 395 junkie. It’s been closed for a long time, nothing to see here, keep moving along. But every place you see like this has a story, and sometimes, they’re wacky. And sometimes, they’re ordinary. I think the story behind this service station is rather extra-ordinary.

Originally established as a stagecoach depot in 1866. During the busy years of the railroad, there was also a residence for the section boss and a bunkhouse for the workers near the depot.

Does this building seem oddly familiar, like something out of a Twilight Zone episode perhaps? Read on, fellow travelers, searchers and explorers. At the signpost up ahead, you’ve entered the location known as “Grant.”

Here’s what the Rustic Oasis Motel sign looks like today. I had seen a picture of it from many years ago where it was in better shape and thought, “hmmm, I should stop and get a picture of that for my explor-files.” So, I did.

Imagine living next to a volcano. “What a blast!” Sorry. Sure, it’s been at least 10,000 years since the last eruption, maybe as long as 100,000 years. Why risk it? And what would the insurance rates be…..

you’ll realize that you’re traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of roadside memories. At the signpost up ahead, there’s a turn-off for Little Lake Road. Take it.

It’s probably been thirty plus years, at least, since anyone has said that here. But at one time, this was a bustling stop on a highway that was once a major route from hither to yon.

I didn’t have an EMF Meter, an EVP, a geophone, Geiger counter or even a flashlight. But somehow I knew, the Dixie Inn was definitely NOT haunted. Case solved, put to rest, RIP.

Why did the farmer cross the road? To ask the guy with the camera why he was taking a picture of his barn.

Speeding past on Interstate 10, maybe a half dozen times a year, the “abandoned place gravity well” has tried to pick me off the freeway to stop and take some pics. It finally happened.

When there are many motels to choose from, what might make someone pick one over another, especially after driving for hours late into the night?

School’s out for summer, and winter, and fall and spring.

The Blue Bus, ain’t calling us. Driver? Driver?