Flashback Friday: Nuclear edition

Seeing these old license plates in my bedroom reminded me what I was thinking about when I was in the middle of Nevada. I was thinking, shit, I should get out of here, this place is toxic.
My dad, a geologist, had the job of analyzing rocks before and after A-bomb testing in the middle of Nevada and other undisclosed desert locations. That’s how I came upon these old license plates from Nevada and Utah. They were on his 1952 Mercedes 300, which he bought with poker money he won in Vegas.
I’m not sure of the scientific term but the A-bomb usually blew the fuck out of all the rocks or melted them into glass. To protect themselves while watching the underground explosions from a distance, my dad and his army buddies would put on their Ray Bans. He died about eight years ago. Cancer. Probably the cigarettes.



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