Lost in the Sagebrush: A Driver's Frustration
A traveler vents his anger at the lack of signage between Prosser and Kennewick, highlighting the perils of early automobile travel in the desert.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
We heard a man swearing the other day—not an unusual occurrence, but this fellow had traveled hundreds of miles in a big automobile and his profanity was stimulated by his experience between Prosser and Kennewick. He told an unattractive story of the sagebrush, sand, sweat, and toil that put shudders of terror into his memory of the trip. When asked about the road conditions, he replied, 'There isn’t a blankety-blank sign board anywhere to tell a fellow whether he is on the road to Kennewick or to purgatory, and judging from the temperature out there in that desert, the road I took must have led to the latter place.' We sympathized with him, as the road between the two towns remains confusing for strangers until the state highway is fully surfaced. We are calling on the Kennewick Auto Club and the Prosser garages to put up signs at every crossroad—and perhaps a sign by the canal reading 'Fill your water bags here.' We don't want strangers going to purgatory; we need the money.
“There isn’t a blankety blank sign board anywhere to tell a fellow whether he is on the road to Kennewick or to purgatory.”
Early 20th-century road-tripping in the Columbia Basin was genuinely treacherous, relying on informal tracks through sagebrush. This account highlights how vital basic infrastructure (signage and water) was to the early promotion of tourism and commerce between Tri-Cities and the Yakima Valley.
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