Back twenty years to... Tuesday, July 11th, 2006. Day 94. Forlorn farmers berating the drought, the 'Enchanted Highway' and fallout shelter occupancy limits. The bare bones of the US Constitution, and the wise old barber’s 'Three Prostitutes' tale.

"I'm off to a pleasing start in downtown Bowman. There are some lovely early sunshine shots to be taken about the place, before quite miraculously, at six forty-five, I call-in for a haircut. There are just three of us in the bright, basement barber shop, and while waiting my turn, I strike-up a conversation with the big man seated in one of the two huge leopard-print chairs, who – with his eyes closed tightly against the snipping – dolefully shakes his head very slightly, and now announces: "We sure could do with some rain."

As if auto-prompted by the remark, Gordon – the wise, old and expert barber, begins reciting his, 'Three Prostitutes' story. He must have told it, at least a hundred times: "There are three prostitutes sitting in the diner on a Sunday morning, comparing notes on their Saturday night clients. The first says that she must have been with a Cop the night before, because she woke up with the imprint of a badge on her belly. The second gal says that her date must have been with a cowboy, as she had the mark of a belt-buckle on her backside. The third prostitute thought for a while, before telling the others that It must have been with, a farmer. First he said it was too dry – then it was too wet – and once we were done – he said he’d pay me in the Fall."

The man in the chair jolts forward, with loud and spontaneous laughter, his head raised-up, and I fear for his ears, as Gordon quickly retracts his scissors. The farmer must have heard the joke a dozen times – but it still makes him crease-up with absolute glee.

A few days later, and according to a rotating clock-thermometer sign on the bank in the small town of New Leipzig – it’s a hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit. It doesn’t compute with me. I’m very much a 'Celsius' kind-of-a-guy. So it’s probably just about forty degrees. At five, and to cool down, I take a seat at the only bar in town, and soon get chatting with the regulars: Jim, Steve and Chris – and presiding over the mounting hilarity, Eric, the forever beaming barman. As the evening progresses, and the drinks keep on flowing, we all keep our own tabs in the customary way, each with a pile of bills and coins laid-out on the bar."

In Search of Small-Town America: Volume 1 is a free-of-charge Pdf digital download – available from our shop. A table of contents, the introduction, the route-map – and featuring content on the first two States travelled: New Mexico and Arizona.

Jeremy Hammond I am a British writer and photographer, and have travelled through India, China, Southeast Asia and Australia, but most extensively in North America. In the late seventies and early eighties, I worked as lighting crew, and later designer, for many top-named British bands, on tours through Europe, Japan, and the USA. I’ve worked as a cruise-ship photographer, in office and store design, database design, visual arts book publishing and as a London-based freelance photographer, specialising in interiors and architecture.