The sun was high, the temperature was warming, and the bright blue sky was littered with pillowy white clouds. The adventure began the moment the car pulled from the main road and into the orange sandy dirt. We had miles to go ahead of us and our destination appeared to be only the mountains. The road twisted through the desert, dust clouds billowing behind our vehicles. At last, we arrived at the humble home rested right on the edge of the mountains: officially “off the grid.” We explored, spun in circles, and took in the panoramic view from the flat rooftop. We sang without shame with no one to hear but the buzzards. We aimed and shot hand-guns: a first for many of us. We rejoiced in a strange and powerful moment as we aimed at the small tin cans listening to the echo of the bullet ricochet within the mountains. Then we piled onto children’s four-wheelers that had been abandoned long ago; the frames too small for our grown bodies. We drove faster and faster, urging the ATV to go as quickly as it could beneath our adult weight. We felt the child-like thrill of the dusty wind in our faces as we sped around the track. Alas, we laughed and giggled until our cheeks were red and ached, and tears filled our eyes. We told stories of pain and hardship. We reveled in our rare and beautiful friendships somehow formed across thousands of miles. As dusk arrived we admired the orange and yellow sunset knowing it would eventually be our last. We left the mountainside, retreating back into reality, knowing we had just made some of the greatest memories under the Arizonan sun.