Some years ago, when my Ford Expedition burned out its transmission on a long, long, long, long descent into Death Valley, we were towed to the nearest repair shop which happened to be in Pahrump. The helpful proprietor told me it would take about five days for the transmission to arrive and be fitted. As I don't care for casino life and as the thought of the clientele upon whom brothels depend makes me sad, I had plenty of time to meander around the town to discover its quiet charms. But after that ten minutes was over, there wasn't much else to do.

Except leave.