ABSTRACT

I missed the first yellow warning sign. It was dark, I was on a 40-mile, dead-end road into the heart of the high Mojave Desert, and I was running late. Not wanting to give the public affairs officer another opportunity to explainwhat o-five-hundred meant, I pushed the rental car up to 90. A few miles later there was a second sign. This time I put on the high beams and slowed down. On it was a black silhouette of a tank, and underneath, “Tank Xing.”