Ive stayed over in Deming exactly 3 times, been through it a couple more. Each time more bizarre than the last. I spotted this location whilst on my way to the Gila Wilderness, thought it might be cool to explore it but there was some guy living in his car in the parking lot. He had in his car what looked like all his earthly possessions. And his dog. I felt sorry for the dog.

Then on another trip I went out to explore the old airfield. Got followed by a big black Lincoln Towncar with a couple of thuggy looking wise guys in it. Tried to ditch them behind a hanger but they just kept coming. I was in a Crown Vic so I was able to out run them but all I had for protection was a little pocket sized 9mm and didn't feel like having a gunfight that day.

As I came back into town some old geezer riding an antique Honda 90 motorcycle came careening out in front of me and never even looked. His kickstand was dangling down apparently had a broken spring because when ever he would turn left it hit the pavement and threw up some sparks and bounced up and down. This guy was 80 years old if he was a day. Had long gray pony tail and looked like he might have weighed 90lbs. We watched to see if he was going to stab that kickstand in some soft asphalt and pole vault himself off his scoot. But he ducked down another side street in a cloud of dust. Deming is real dusty.

On a third trip we stayed in a motel near the west end of town. While driving to the Wendy's for dinner a dust storm blew in. It was around 6:00pm but looked like the sun had disappeared. We got inside the Wendys and all the employees were huddled in fear. The giant plate glass windows were being buffeted by the wind, you could actually see the glass sheets flexing and bending.

About 6:30 all the low riders come out make a couple of trips up and down the main drag, every night, then turn around and go back home. Life in small town Deming is like living through an episode of the Twilght Zone TV series.