On our way to Arizona, just outside Palm Springs, we passed all the giant windmills. If you have traveled that way on the 10 freeway, you know what I'm talking about. Brett told us that his dad drove him through here a lot as a kid, on his way to his mom's house in Phoenix. Apparently, Brett's father told him that the windmills were in fact, airplane gravestones, all part of a big airplane graveyard. When the airplanes died, this was where they were buried. Their propellers served as giant head stones. Brett recalls this story with bitterness, because he was gullible enough to believe it. Our children didn't buy that story for a second.
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