Eagles Stories

You wake in the passenger seat of a '64 Lincoln Continental, the desert highway stretching endlessly before you, headlights cutting through the warm pink haze of dusk. The woman driver with mirrored sunglasses taps the steering wheel to a song you almost recognize. "Almost there," she says, nodding toward a flickering neon sign in the distance: a palm tree, a crescent moon, the words HOTEL CALIFORNIA glowing like a fever...