Fallon, Nevada is the place I met my wife, Georgia. We were both very young, married a year after we met and moved away shortly after that. I believe we, well me anyway, endear ourselves to a time or place based on a romantic notion of what we did or who we met. Point in fact...Fallon. I will always have fond memories of our, mine and Georgia, time in Fallon. Though for different reasons for the both of us, because it is where Georgia grew up.
We would spend hot Summer days swimming in irrigation canals. Yes the same green and murky ditch resplendent with floating agriculturally cast offs pictured here. The romance of it is the fond memory of splashing about on hot dusty days and lazily floating down the canal drinking beer. We watched movies in a turn of the century (the other one...not this one) theater, named after the city, oblivious to the uncomfortable seating, small screen and mono sound. The quaint rusty nature of the Pony Express town was and is more function over form. And the guys who wear cowboy hats because...well...they're cowboys.
Now, 28 years later, Fallon still holds romance and form for it's still a place of magic where a young man found the love of his life.