Brushstrokes of man, part 37-b, or from rockets to rocks

(This is a continuation of the south central New Mexico landscape as impacted by man. I'd intended to get as far as the rocks either affected or created by man. I didn't make it, stalling instead in the small town of Tularosa--a place of unexplainable attraction for this romantic's heart.)

Leaving White Sands Missile Range and all its gorgeous rockets standing attentively erect against the azure sky, one passes the original White Sands thirty-two miles down the road. It's a 225 sq. mi. formation of pure white gypsum dunes 10-60 feet high. The entire national monument is completely within the larger 4,000 sq. mi. missile range. (In fact, this entire day our travel will skirt the massive missile mammoth's borders.) But we don't stop at the dunes, for this is a tour of unnatural sites created by man as they either enhance or deface the New Mexican landscape.

Another thirty miles down the road and I can't resist a few minutes stop in one of my favorite towns. On the eastern edge of the Missile Range, this small community has always exerted some kind of mystical power attraction over my brain's magnetite. Always drawn in, I can never resist the strong gravitational pull Tularosa holds over me.

Pausing on the bustling main street (Granado Street) of Tularosa, NM. That's me, standing between the two parked cars, in front of the woman pushing a stroller and the gentleman sweeping the sidewalk to my left.

It occurs to me, on the dwindling list of places where I'd live, Tularosa continues to hold a spot. And, as noted, I don't know why, who can explain the directions we're pulled by the chemistry labs of our brains?

Note in the above picture, the building on the left has apartments upstairs.I managed to locate the entrance to these apartments; to inquire if there were any vacancies. I thought living in the middle of main street commerce could provide real conveniences unaccessible in larger cities without a car.

Sadly, of the two apartments upstairs, neither was available. And the turnover rate was extremely low I learned, averaging seventeen and a half years. I don't have that kind of time, but yet I imagined how it must be, living in the hub of commerce with a window overlooking all the activities of main street. No doubt, there is never a dull moment. Someone is very lucky indeed to live here!

Mrs. Dada and I walked the three blocks of Granado Street. This day I noted, of all the little storefronts at hand, only two were open -- a hardware store and a bar. Those with future entreprenurial ambitions might want to take note of that. Hardware and bars!

The north side of Tularosa's main street, Granado. The hardware store is a Western

Auto. The only other business open is the bar across the street and a couple blocks down.

As I peered into the hardware store window, the space/time continuum suddenly collapsed when I spotted this shiny red Radio Flyer!
For a brief moment I experienced time travel, for there before me was the exact same little red wagon in the same Main Street hardware store window from my youth more than half a century earlier, until the din of the passing traffic and crowded sidewalk shoppers zapped me back to the present.

Half a block down I paused in front of a little store. I don't remember what kind of store. But it had covered its windows with that mirror like film that reflects the street it faces while preventing outsiders from seeing in.
I wondered if there was anyone inside starring out. Just in case, I drew up my camera, aimed it in their direction and fired. But I only shot myself. Feeling a bit wounded, it was time to leave. Next stop: Three Rivers Petroglyphs and the man-made rocks of Trinity.