“And the beaches were concrete
And the stars paid a light bill
And the blossoms hung false
On their store window trees.”
~Joni
I spent much of the week doing major cleaning and minor repairs to my van while parked in Barbara and Lark’s driveway. I got all my seat cushions washed and found some fabric at Walmart to use as temporary covers. I visited an upholsterer, but the logistics of making new covers just wasn’t workable without leaving my current cushions with him.
I spent much of Tuesday at a title company where I managed to get a new Arizona driver’s license, new tags and title issued, and the van registered in AZ. There was a slight glitch because South Dakota where the previous title and registration was issued listed the van as a commercial van. The Title company (and I) wanted the van listed as an RV, but it took some doing to clear the previous designation from the VIN. In the end they got everything straightened out. All documents will be issued by the DMV and sent to my friend Richard in CA who will then forward everything to me once I get a PO box set up in Ehrenberg, CA by the middle of October. Again, the obsession our government has with making us prove we are not homeless makes everything just a bit more difficult than I think necessary.
While in Prescott Valley, I got to have Sushi, Mexican food (complete with a margarita), pizza and Thai curry. I cooked a couple nights, and we also went out for breakfast one morning. It’s a rare treat for me to eat out at a restaurant. My scale tells me I put on two pounds this week. I’m heading in the wrong direction, so I guess I’ll have to cut back on my snacks this week to get back on track.
Thursday morning, I got packed up early and left for Cordes Lakes where I stay every fall off of Bloody Basin Road. Everyone says it sounds awful, but it is one of my favorite spots. I even set up my “guest bedroom” to try to look as big as possible.
For whatever reason, this is an area where people sometimes decide to share my spot without asking if it would be OK. If a place is crowded, I never mind sharing with a considerate neighbor; but when there is practically nobody on the long dirt road and someone just decides to encroach, I’m not a happy camper. I’ve found that spreading out, setting up my tent, table and chairs and stringing my solar lights makes the site look occupied by a group of campers and deters unwanted guests from setting up in the middle of the night. So far it’s working.
Patsy came down to visit me. She is a cattle rancher who lives up on the hill beyond where I stay. She first came to my campsite 3 years ago, in extreme heat. She apologized for the intrusion but explained that she’d seen me outside a couple days before, and then not seen me out when she drove by. She was concerned that the heat may have gotten to me. She asked if I was OK, if I had enough water, if I needed anything. We’ve been friends ever since and she always stops each spring and fall when she sees my van parked down the road from her. We had a nice catch up and then she went on to check on her cows. I always enjoy her visiting me.
The rest of the week was uneventful. I took in the peaceful quiet after a week in the Empire. It’s nice to see only cows, a few prickly pear cacti and the full moon rising.
Lessons From The Road: I am infinitely grateful for Barbara and Lark’s hospitality, for allowing me to use their driveway as a place to get cleaning and maintenance done that is not so easily done on the road. They opened up their home so I could do major laundry (my seat cushion covers, sleeping bag, etc.) I loved getting to go out to so many places to eat too.
The city is tough for me. The longer I live in the wild, the harder it is for me to adjust to city folk and city norms. When I set up here in the middle of nowhere after leaving Prescott Valley, I let out a sigh of relief that I hadn’t realized I was holding in. As I put out my solar panels and set up my tent, a jeep drove by and the occupant waved and smiled at me. It occurred to me that meant I was home. In cities, people not only don’t wave, they rarely speak to me, and they mostly avoid eye contact. Cosmo and I took walks down the street each morning in Prescott Valley. The few neighbors who were outside ignored us. Nobody spoke to us. Nobody even looked up at us. The same was true at Walmart and other businesses. As I walked down the aisles, people averted their eyes. Nobody smiled or spoke. With one exception. In Walmart, I turned down one aisle and a man, slightly disheveled, saw me, did a double take and said, “How’s it going, brother?” I smiled back and assured him I was doing well. The conversation ended with “Stay safe” and “You too.” Nomads recognize each other in the Empire. We stand out, at least to each other, maybe because we make eye-contact and smile. It is sort of like gaydar for van people. I like it. I also had an experience in the restaurant we went to for breakfast. While waiting for our table to be ready, I stood next to a man with a long (Think ZZ Top) beard. I caught his eye, stroked my beard, and said, “I’m a little bit jealous.” He smiled hard, took off his hat exposing his bald head and said, “I’m a little jealous too.” We both laughed.
And finally…My happy song of the week:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZbZSe6N_BXs
That’s all I’ve got.
See you down the road,