The temperature outside is in the mid-40s, brisk and dry, and the road ahead of us is straight as a sunbeam. Salt Lake City is sixty, seventy miles behind us, and the Nevada border is another fifty miles ahead. I take off my regular glasses, pass them to Pia, and for a moment I am squinting and driving into a blurry field of color and light. Then I manage to get my sunglasses on: the world comes back into focus, sepia-toned and clear. Not a moment too soon. The taupes and tans of the desert around us bleach and flatten, and suddenly we are racing across the surface of the moon.