Jim Hinckley

My first impression of the deserts of Arizona was that I had arrived at the place warned about in Sunday school. Well, that was more than forty years ago and I now find it impossible to imagine living anywhere that isn't found within the borders of Arizona or New Mexico.

I was eighteen when the mystique, the legend, and the wild lands of the desert southwest grabbed me by the heart. I now jokingly refer to those magic tragic years as my John Wayne period.

On more than one occasion my pay was earned through the polishing of saddles with the seat of my pants and the stringing of wire on ranches in Arizona as well as New Mexico. During these wild and woolly years I also brought home the bacon with money earned as a jack leg operator and powder monkey deep underground, as a dredge operator, and assorted odd jobs such as hauling hogs and cacti.

Trucks built a dozen or more years before I was born became the vehicles of choice. Somethings never change and some change just a bit - I now drive a '68 Dodge.

It was my dear, wonderful wife, my best friend, that encouraged me to write, to share my passion for the southwest, for old cars, and the road less traveled. With publication of my eleventh book, Jay Leno stopping by a recent book signing in Burbank, and some pending European speaking engagements on the horizon, it looks as though the childhood goal of becoming a writer is close to becoming a reality.