The sign welcomed travelers with ironic optimism: 'The staunch citizens of Nothing are full of Hope, Faith, and Believe in the work ethic. Thru-the-years-these dedicated people had faith in Nothing, hoped for Nothing, worked at Nothing, for Nothing.' Nothing, Arizona, founded in 1977, was always more concept than community - a gas station in the Mojave Desert where US-93 promised civilization and delivered a building, some pumps, and an attitude. The founders named it Nothing because that's what the location offered: no water, no electricity, no reason to exist except that someone decided to sell gasoline where people ran out. The gas station closed. The buildings collapsed. Nothing has become even more Nothing than its founders intended - empty structures returning to the desert that birthed the joke.
Two prospectors established Nothing in 1977 at a junction on US-93 between Wickenburg and Interstate 40. The location had no utilities, no water, no geographic purpose except equidistance between somewhere and somewhere else. They drilled a well (contaminated with arsenic, requiring trucked-in water), installed tanks (refilled by truck), and opened for business. The name was the marketing strategy: travelers photographed themselves in front of Nothing, bought souvenirs at Nothing, told friends they'd been to Nothing. The joke sustained the enterprise for decades. Nothing was always performance art disguised as commerce.
Nothing's economy was gasoline and irony. The gas station sold fuel at inflated prices because there was no competition - the nearest alternative was 50 miles in either direction. The attached store sold nothing-themed merchandise: postcards, t-shirts, bumper stickers celebrating the town's absence of attributes. An 'all-you-can-eat' sign once hung above nothing at all - no restaurant, no food, just the sign. The humor was dark, the location brutal, and the enterprise somehow profitable enough to continue. Nothing survived on the American appetite for novelty, for destinations that exist only to be destinations.
Nothing closed around 2005. The gas station stopped pumping; the store stopped selling; the joke stopped landing. The desert reclaimed what little existed: roofs collapsed, walls crumbled, graffiti accumulated. The town sign remained - vandalized, faded, but recognizable. Travelers still stop to photograph themselves at Nothing, now getting even less than the original joke promised. The abandoned buildings are private property, technically off-limits, but enforcement requires someone to care. No one does. Nothing has achieved its final form: not a place, not a town, just a name on a road through nowhere.
Nothing joins a tradition of American ironic geography - Why, Arizona; Boring, Oregon; Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Towns named as jokes, as marketing, as commentary on the places they occupy. Nothing was perhaps the purest example: a name that described reality rather than aspiration. The joke worked because the location was genuinely miserable - hot, dry, distant from anything comfortable. Visiting Nothing required commitment. The reward was the ability to say you'd done it. That's more than most destinations offer, honestly.
Nothing is located on US-93 roughly 50 miles north of Wickenburg and 90 miles south of Interstate 40, in the Arizona desert. There are no services - the gas station is closed, the buildings are abandoned, the joke has concluded. The town sign remains, offering the essential photograph. The surrounding desert is classic Mojave: saguaro and cholla give way to Joshua trees heading north. Carry water, fuel, and realistic expectations. The drive from Wickenburg is scenic in a stark way; continue to Kingman for services. The best time to visit is winter; summer temperatures exceed 110°F, which is nothing to joke about.
Located at 34.47°N, 113.32°W in the Mojave Desert of western Arizona. From altitude, Nothing is barely visible - a few collapsed structures at a road junction, indistinguishable from other abandoned desert outposts. US-93 cuts through the landscape as a gray ribbon; the junction where Nothing existed is unmarked except by decay. The surrounding terrain is classic desert: sparse vegetation, brown mountains, empty miles. The nearest communities are dots on distant horizons. Nothing looks from altitude like what it always was: a place with no reason to exist, existing anyway for as long as someone insisted.