2. Pink Knuckles on the Extraterrestrial Highway

Part 2--The Mystery Resolved

I passed another so-called road sign at the intersection with a dirt road on the left. Same side of the road as Area 51. Coincidental or suspicious? Take your pick. This sign read “NYALA ADAVEN.” Ha! Did they think I was so naive? Spelled backwards, it reads “NEVADA ALAYN.” Alayn is obviously equivalent to “Alien.” Playing games, are they?

At least it confirmed that I’m still in Nevada. I resolved that, even if Alayn was the cosmic headquarters for all the stamped and certified UFOs in Nevada, I was not going down that dirt road. Not because I was chicken. But because I was a human. Earthling. Allegedly.

At the same location, there was an apparent “STOP” sign as well. But who’s to say it wasn’t “POTS” spelled backwards? Pots? What the hell could that mean? I began to feel confused. As my foot hit the throttle, the theme to Twilight Zone began to play and replay in my head, over and over, again and again, and several times after that, then once more, before repeating.

Next I sped past a tall, steel transmitting tower. Once again, in the Middle of Nowhere! I kept the radio on just in case I picked up an alien conversation. If so, I could triangulate the position of the tower, the alien cow, and trajectory of the space rays, and determine where the aliens had most likely parked their saucers. I hoped it wasn’t in ADAVEN. However, they must be close, since I next passed a solitary porta-potty sitting on a trailer with little wheels and no one around for miles. What are the odds of that? There’s no way I was stopping now. Not even to pee.

As I closed in on the alleged, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it town of Rachel, en route to Crystal Springs, I passed a sign with the numerals “42” boldly emblazoned on both sides. Since everyone already knows what that means, I’ll just leave it alone for now. Again, the signs were everywhere, and this unconvincing “42” just added to the heap.

Now that I was well past the turnoff to NYALA (yeah, right), I began to relax a little, though getting anxious to be done with the Ex Highway. The drive had been moderately harrowing and I was ready for a break. But the aliens were not done with me.

Another sign. This one read “QUEEN CITY SUMMIT 5960.” Now, where in the world is Queen City? Certainly not in the Middle of Nowhere. Wherever it is, are they holding a summit there? And who is this queen? It sounded like someone who could be in charge. And what could 5960 mean? Have they come from the year 5960? I had a sinking feeling I may never know.

Soon, I whizzed by another deranged looking alien cow sign and another supposed low-flying aircraft sign. But by now I was growing numb to it all. Despite the potential horrors, I’d made it this far and was feeling more optimistic that I was not going to be abducted. They easily could have snatched me away already had their AI and their space rays deemed me a real threat.

But just then, I received a visual warning in the form of an alien face painted next to the words “Area 51” on the north side of the highway. Green with huge, dark eyes and a dour look. I think it was giving me the finger. It might have been some special alien appendage. Or on another world, a friendly greeting. I should ask the Air Force. They know. But do you think they’ll tell us? Correct.

A moment later, I came upon a sign with the symbol for a telephone. Very funny. It was probably a phony phone. Do they not even know we no longer use telephones? They think we still use landlines? Maybe the military still uses them. The rest of us just tweet, of course. Or I guess we X now. Or at least the diehards do. Even if I still X-ed, there was no way I was going to X on the Ex Highway. Think Twilight Zone. Not happening. I’d use a hardwired telephone before I’d do that.

OMG! That’s it! The famed blue tweety bird has been subsumed into a phony black raven. For a moment, I clearly felt a moment of clarity. In other words, Elon Musk has been abducted! Or at least biomechanically modified by aliens, or perhaps Herefords, into a right-winged AI robot. Given recent behavioral observations, I would guess the left wing is now missing altogether. But it explains everything! Except the 42, of course.

I collected my wits from the dashboard, flexed my knuckles and kept driving. For whatever reason, I decided I should look more closely at my knuckles. They seemed like they were more white than pink now. Not good.

Suddenly, there were more cow signs. I don’t mean signs in the sense of actual cow pies, which are often a dead giveaway, but rather road signs with cow-like caricatures. This time, they were the normal looking variety, tail down, at peace with the world. Perhaps I’d entered a new realm? Had I made it through? I wanted to feel elated, even just a little upbeat, but that would be premature.

However, there were now even Joshua trees growing close to the highway. They looked very calm and collected. It gave them a gentle disposition. Like they cared. At a pullout, I read some interpretive signs about the two kinds of Joshua trees and the two kinds of moths that pollinate them. Moths? Sure, whatever. More low-flying aircraft if you ask me. And wouldn’t you know it, the next sign I passed? LOW FLYING AIRCRAFT!!

I didn’t realize it at first, but the main mystery was about to be resolved. That being the irrefutable connection between Area 51 and aliens! Because on the left-hand side of the Ex Highway, the authorities, i.e., the Deep State (as we all know them, even though they think they’re being sneaky), had established a facility called the Area 51 Research Center. It was written in large bold letters in a very professional way, so you could tell it was real. There was even a 20-foot tall, potentially fake alien standing out front of the building. At least I think it was fake. It doesn’t matter that it was fake, because, fake or not, the connection was already made. Area 51 and aliens. It was like hand and glove.

Feeling brave again and full of Joshua tree solace, I stopped in to look around. I expected to see cows. But there were none, real or otherwise. That was the most mind-bending thing about the place. Yet there was incredible evidence of aliens on every shelf, every wall. T-shirts, magnets, posters, doodads, cold drinks.

And little mini-aliens with a foreign kind of skin that looked and felt like plastic. No offense. I’m just sayin’. I’ll admit I picked one up, but in a nice way. It wasn’t moving, so it had probably died, poor thing. Sheepishly, I abducted him/her/it, although the person at the checkout counter insisted I pay the five dollar ransom to take him/her/it away. Well, after all I’d been through on my moderately harrowing drive, how could I not?

I departed the Area 51 Resource Center feeling like a true survivor. And I’d learned many important things, most of which I could not even write about here. Like the really good stuff on Area 51 that will remain with me forever. My lips are sealed, as they say.

There was one more sign between there and Crystal Springs. It read “WATERCRAFT INSPECTION.” I think we all now know what that means. Right. I wouldn’t have known it before.

At Crystal Springs, the adventure was over. A sense of real satisfaction flowed through me. Like steam through a roadside mocha before it goes cold. And I still had my wits, though I did find a couple later that were stuck in that crease in the dashboard that eats your credit cards.

So, in the final analysis, the Extraterrestrial Highway, should you dare to travel that way on some quiet September morning, you may find that things are not always as they appear. Even in the rear view mirror of a Mitsubishi. But if I could do it, well, you can too. Just go.

And by all means, don’t forget to look up on occasion. The “raven” may be following you to be sure you’re harmless. So be harmless. But if you’re really lucky, you might even get a glimpse of this:

Or maybe even this: