I remember a `The Hills Have Eyes’ experience in Arizona many years ago.
Bro’ and I drove by a Van Halen concert outside Tucson in high summer, in a no air conditioned VW on our way to so CA.
(At least we weren’t in the Rockies and `rowing’ that 1500 cc injun.)
It was night time so we were only sweating lightly due to help from the wind from the vent windows, air cooler than forced air from a Bessemer furnace.
The landscape was lit by huge lights off the highway and reminded me of a sun-blasted Mars. We looked at one another, he said, “How do they survive out here?”
No money for a motel so pulled off the highway and pushed the (red) “leatherette” (plastic) seats back all the way. The seats superglued themselves to our backs and we were sweating profusely. Things were slithering under the floor pan. Who knows, sidewinders, gila monsters, desert krakken. That was miserable.
News flash `frisco homo: AZ is hot. Hotter than the hinges to the gates of Hell, your final destination.
Im a dispatch supervisor for an airline with a hub in DEN. We diverted an El Paso flight and cancelled two others because it was too hot to get landing data..