Roy Scobie
Roy Scobie is an old independent cattle rancher who is on the verge of bankruptcy when Abbey briefly works for him under the feeble conditions of a man struggling desperately to hold onto the vestiges of what he once had. He becomes the symbol of how progress is crushing the independent spirit of the west.
Coke Machine
Vending machines which dispense bottles of Coca-Cola become through repetition the central symbol of Abbey’s disgust with the transformation of the National Park system into a tourist attraction existing primarily for the creation of revenue. On numerous occasions he make sardonic if not outright insulting references to the number one question posed to him as a ranger by tourist being “Where’s the Coke machine?”
Water
Water is perhaps the book’s most complex symbol. It is precious no matter what; the lack of it is an always present threat to anyone who may become stranded in the desert. Paradoxically for Abbey, that very same quality of preciousness makes it a symbol of the threat facing the desert in its natural form. As the author explains, there is no lack of water in the desert; everything is in perfect balance in the natural state so that there is just enough water for life to be maintained. It is only when progress brings development into the desert that the amount of water is deemed to be insufficient. And the changes necessary to repair that situation means that it is no longer a desert anymore which, ironically, is the very reason behind wanting to develop it in the first place.
The Desert
By the end of the text, Abbey has pondered how some men are drawn to the sea and others are draw to the mountains. By contrast, he calls himself a “desert rate” and implicates the desert as a symbol of dense metaphysical significance. The desert is for Abbey, a multiplicity of symbolism “inviting not love, but contemplation” and “a veil of mystery” evoking a sense of something “unknown, unknowable about to be revealed.”
Automobiles
Automobiles becomes the symbol of the tyranny of civilization which prohibits most people every truly experiencing the beauty of untamed nature and the music of the wilderness. Such is the extraordinarily negative aspect of automobile upon modern life for Abbey that the question can be raised as to whether his view of it is merely symbolic. When he writes that the “automobile has almost succeeded in destroying our cities; we need not let it also destroy our national parks” he is not being metaphorical, but quite literal. Elsewhere, this symbol becomes part of a proposed literal agenda for transforming management of the park service when he advocates reducing unnecessary budget expenditures through a wholesale elimination of vehicular traffic within all National Parks borders.
