Not taking the short way

A few days ago I posted I was leaving the desert and going to the coast. Well, I’m still in the desert, just farther north, near Lake Havasu City. I’m going to do laundry and a little shopping, then probably continue north to Lake Mead and Valley of Fire State Park. Then maybe west through Death Valley to the Eastern Sierras. After some time at Alabama Hills I might jog south to Lake Isabella and Kernville for a bit, then finally cross the Central Valley from Bakersfield to Santa Maria.

Because, what’s the hurry? Why the destination fixation? I’m not my father with his Point-A-to-Point-B-in-minimal-time mentality. Or I try not to be when I feel that slipping into my thinking. No. I’ll get to the ocean when I get there.

Let the migration begin

The forecast says temperatures here in the low latitude/low elevation parts of the desert will be in the 90s in the next week. Time to move from my winter habitat. It’s still cold to the north. Meanwhile things look pretty good at the coast—at least in the lower part, like up to Pismo Beach/San Luis Obispo/Morro Bay. No sweltering days or freezing nights.

So I observed the Vernal Equinox today by hitting the road. I plan to bypass the San Diego-Los Angeles megalopolis this time by sneaking in the back way. From here to Barstow,  to Bakersfield, to Santa Maria. Or something like that. I’ll be missing some of my favorite beaches, but I’ll also be missing the traffic. 

The idea is to replicate last summer’s wanderings up the coast to the Pacific Northwest, minus the Canada part. Then I might go through Washington, Idaho and Montana in early autumn. I have a half year to figure that out.

Wet and wild

A storm blew in this afternoon. And by “blew” I mean 30-50 MPH wind hitting the Rolling Steel Tent broadside. Shake shake shake, shake shake shake. Shake my va-an. Shake my va-an.

There was some rain the other day, but it was a genteel drizzle that slightly dampened the ground and dried up shortly after sunrise. Today’s rain came down in hard diagonal bursts. The forecast is guessing a couple more hours of this. I slipped out during a calm moment to take photos.

I had planned on staying here a few more days. Now the storm is saying, “Yeah, you will definitely be staying put until the ground gets drier and firmer.” The way out isn’t all desert pavement, so it’s better to sit tight. No problem. I have plenty of supplies and nowhere I need to be.

Crank ‘er over

Yesterday I did some online price comparisons for the replacement battery. NAPA, the closest source, didn’t show the prices. Hmmm. So what about Walmart? That’s where the now-dead battery was from. The price had been very low, and it lasted longer than expected. How much had prices gone up in seven years? About double. 

For reference I checked O’Reilly. Whoo! Their cheapest battery was 250% higher than my old one. AutoZone, 200% higher. Interstate Batteries wanted 150% more.

All those alternatives would mean driving to Buckeye, Mariposa, or Casa Grande. So I figured I’d at least check at NAPA before burning a bunch of gasoline.

Small town service can be slow. There was one customer ahead of me, getting wiper blades and some type of fluid. And the solo clerk seemed s-o-o-o-o s-l-o-o-o-o. While waiting I wondered if they would even have the battery I needed in stock. But they did, and the price was low enough. So, tah-dah! 

Steak and potato y frijoles soup

I’m not a fan of Campbell’s soups. They’re essentially a delivery medium for salt. But I was stocking my larder at Grocery Outlet a while back and there was a good deal on Campbell’s Chunky Steak and Potato soup (The Soup the Eats Like a Meal®) and thought, eh, I could do something with that.

Fast forward a couple of months and I did something with that. I added some dehydrated refried beans. That thickened the broth/gravy and blunted the saltiness a bit. The result was much better.

I have some other soup enhancement ideas I’ll try in the future. Rice, lentils, dehydrated mixed veggies, crushed tomatoes…

Chillin' on the patio

After making a run to town for bread and cheese I cruised back through the camping area south of Ajo to see which sites were now available. My number one favorite spot was occupied, but my second favorite—one I call the Patio—was available.

The Patio is the former slab foundation of what I’m guess was once a mine related building. Though it’s a bit busted up in places, it’s level and I don’t need to worry about tracking in dirt. And the view is nice.

Wind the clock back a bit. When I came out of the grocery the Rolling Steel Tent wouldn’t start. The engine wouldn’t turn over. Sigh. The cheap seven year old battery had finally slipped into a coma. Lead-acid batteries have a typical lifespan of three to five years, so I had gotten my money’s worth.

I got out the jumper cables and connected them to the house battery. I turned the key. Click. Click. (Come on babe) Click. Vroom. There we go.

The only place in Ajo that might have batteries is the NAPA store. I drove over and discovered it was closed, it being Sunday and such. So I turned around and discovered the Patio was available.

Now it’s Monday morning. I could jumpstart the van again and go get a battery. But I don’t need to go today. I’m not ready to leave the area. So I’ll just sit here another few days. Then, if NAPA doesn’t have my particular battery, I’ll go to a larger town with more options. Tucson? Phoenix? We’ll see.

Ramen Italiano, a.k.a. spagramen

I have a few meals I whip up when I want something fast and easy and cheap. And doesn’t taste horrible. You probably do, too.

A while back, while eating instant ramen, I had the urge to make a little something more of it. After all, real ramen includes a broth, some vegetables, maybe some meat and an egg. Even if I had the ingredients it would be a more involved process. And I wanted to eat right then.

The creative part of my brain said, “Although Italians would vehemently object, instant ramen noodles are essentially wiggly spaghetti pasta.”

Ah-HA!

I had a jar of arrabbiata sauce. I poured some on the ramen. It was delicious and gratifying. Another time I used some sun-dried tomato pesto. Also delicious and gratifying. I might pick up some Alfredo sauce one of these days.

Some folks probably say I should just use real pasta. Sometimes I do (that’s why I had the sauces) but since ramen noodles are pre-cooked they’re ready much sooner.

Boom boom boom boom

Ajo, Arizona, is on the edge of the Barry M. Goldwater Air Force Range. It’s common to hear and see planes like the A-10 Thunderbolt (a.k.a. Warthog) doing practice runs.

Occasionally — like this morning — they drop or fire some very heavy stuff. Even though the closest part of the range is five miles away I could feel the shockwave from the explosions. The Rolling Steel Tent shook and, even though I was inside with the door closed, my chest vibrated. The experience taught me shockwaves travel faster than the speed of sound, because I felt the explosions a fraction of a second before I heard them. Also, since sound waves degrade over distance (imagine the racket we’d live with if they didn’t) the huge boom I heard here was much louder at the source. It has been a few hours since the explosions. I hope that was all for today. And tomorrow. And the next day…

“Boom Boom” John Lee Hooker with Big Head Todd and the Monsters

Back to the saguaro zone

Today I picked up where my previous excursion left off. I headed east from Yuma again, stopped in Gila Bend for some carnitas tacos at a family-run restaurant, then continued south to one of my favorite places, Ajo. Smooth sailing, particularly with the first several miles of AZ-85 having been repaved since the last time I made the trip. I found a nice campsite off Darby Well Road and settled in. Good change of scenery.

Time shift

 It’s twelve days until Daylight Saving Time and less than a month until the Vernal Equinox. Winter is winding down. There’s more daylight. Blessed daylight. Hallelujah for daylight! 

In the pit of winter the sun wouldn’t rise until 7:30 and it would set at 4:30. Now there’s about an hour more at the beginning and end of the day. Case in point, here’s the sun hitting the horizon at 5:33 PST, on the very eastern edge of the time zone. What an improvement!

A taxing morning

Back in, oh, 2015 or so, my tax accountant told me I didn’t need to file my taxes anymore if my only income was Social Security. Well, cool. One less hassle.

But I saw a video yesterday that had me questioning his professional advice. He has since retired, so I couldn’t simply call or email him to learn whether tax law regarding my situation had changed in the past decade. I asked the All-knowing Gods of the Internet instead. 

“Are there federal taxes on Social Security retirement?”

The answer was, “It depends.” Not if my SS was less than this number, but X% of my income would be taxable if it was between this number and this other number. I fell into the latter group.

I figured I should do the responsible thing and find out how much I might owe and whether I could pay it.

First I tried signing into TurboTax but got in a dead end loop with account verification. So I went directly to the IRS and learned they had free online filing. Cool. But first I needed to set up an ID.me account. That was a process. Fill out name, phone and email, take the verification number they sent me and enter it, use the link they sent me to take photos of two forms of ID, get another verification number, take a video of myself to match against the IDs. Answer some questions about whether I was doing this on my own or whether someone else was making me do it, get on a video conference call so they could see me live and judge how easily I replied to more questions, then finally get cleared with them and the IRS.

Then it was back to the IRS site to be guided through the questions on the tax form. That was easy but tedious. When it was all through, they said I didn’t owe anything. So all that work to end up where I was with my previous semi-ignorant assumptions. A little peace of mind, I guess.

The Great Burrito Search: Candidate 3 and sort of 4

Today I tried a joint farther south on 4th Avenue: Yuma’s Red Taco. It’s a new-ish place. Last winter, while the store was being readied, they had a taco truck out front. I didn’t stop by back then because the small parking lot was filled with contractors’ vehicles, customers and, of course, the taco truck. 

The speciality at Yuma’s Red Taco—in fact, about the only thing on the menu—is birria in one form or another. The story goes that birria comes from Jalisco and was inspired by similar stewed meat dishes introduced by the Spanish. Birria can be made with goat, mutton or beef, with the latter being the case here. And the recipe can vary a lot, depending on the spices and chiles used.

I’ve had some uninspiring birria before, so I didn’t want to commit to an entire burrito. So I ordered a taco. And it was very good, especially with the onions, cilantro, fresh lime juice, and a fiery but flavorful salsa.

I rate Yuma’s Red Taco an A-. I’ll be back for a burrito. Monday-Saturday 7AM to 9 PM, Sunday 7AM to 7PM.

On the way out of town, at the north end of 4th Avenue, I stopped by Mr. G’s Drive-In. It’s owned and operated by the same outfit as The Chile Pepper restaurant on 24th Street. They’ve also taken over the former location of my former favorite, Diego’s. So, whether they’re any good or not, they’re a big player around here.

The menu boards in Mr. G’s are crammed with small type and not-very-clear descriptions. That’s probably not a problem for regular customers, but I was wanting binoculars. I eventually found the listing for burritos and decided to try something new for me: a green chili burrito.

It was on the small side, but it was pretty good. Even better with the red salsa included in the bag. Although the burrito was flavorful I didn’t feel like I’d had a burrito eating experience. It’s not high on my list of things to eat again. Nevertheless, I give it a B+. Monday-Saturday 7AM to 9PM, Sunday 8AM to 8PM.

On the other hand

I’m curious about left-handedness because I’m a lefty. Last night I wondered whether there were right- and left-handed primates. According to my AI-assisted search of the web, yes.

Whereas approximately 10% of humans are left-handed, about 25% of gorillas and 30-35% of chimps are. Perhaps that’s because they don’t smack each other with rulers when they use the “wrong” hand. Furthermore, ambidexterity is more common in primates, with some showing no hand preference at all.

One of the ways researchers determine the handedness of primates is by putting a treat in a tube. The primate needs to hold the tube with one hand while retrieving the treat with the other.

I tend to use different hands for different tasks. For example, I throw a baseball with my left hand but bat right-handed. I also bowl and play guitar (badly) right-handed. And since my mother told me life would be easier if I learned to use scissors with my right hand, that’s what I do. And I’m not the only southpaw with some degree of ambidexterity. Most of us have needed to adapt to the right-handed world of humans, or our brains are wired in a way that makes dominant handedness less of an issue. Some of us use whichever hand is…handy.

I also learned from my late night research that left-handedness occurs to a slightly higher degree among neurodivergent populations. About 28% of autistic people, 14.5% of those with developmental coordination disorder, and 27.5% of those with ADHD are likely to be left- or mixed-handed.

And although the reasons for the connections are unknown, left-handed people have a slightly greater incidence of immune diseases, migraines, breast cancer, cardiovascular disease and inflammatory bowel diseases. I haven’t had a problem with any of those (yet) but maybe I should worry that 40% of those with schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder are left-handed.

Well, that was sooner than expected

I finally bought a new hubcap to replace the one I lost out on the Lost Coast. I got it on eBay and the tracking info said it would be delivered Friday, February 28. A few days later, when I checked to affirm it had been shipped, it said it would be delivered Monday the 24th. Oh, that’s better. Then this morning, Friday the 21st, I got a notice it had been delivered. Already? Cool.

But since my mail forwarder in Quartzsite is closed Saturday and Sundays I wouldn’t be able to pick it up until Monday. Unless I drove the 160 miles from Vekol Valley today, Friday. And that’s what I did.

The spankin’n new hubcap makes the old wheel look grungy in comparison. I guess I could rehab the wheels. Or I could just let the hubcap get dirty and road-worn.

Meanwhile, that golfer back in Vekol Valley is free to hit his balls around—unless someone else occupies that spot. I do hope so.

I’m going to be the jerk in this guy’s version of the story

So there I was this morning, camped in Vekol Valley, having some breakfast (oatmeal with some chili mango on the side) when a man walked by. Um okay, taking a shortcut through my campsite, I guess. He was carrying a step ladder, perhaps because he needed to get at something on an RV roof. But he set up the ladder about six paces from the rolling steel tent and fiddled with a piece of cloth attached to it. Rather than folding the ladder back up and proceeding on his way, he turned to me and asked, “Will you be here long?”

“Another day or two.”

“Oh. Then could you do me a favor and move to one of the other spots?”

Since my spot was sizable I thought perhaps he wanted to bring in a large rig or a group. He might have read the sorry-first-come-first-served-amigo expression on my face because he continued, “See, I’m going to be hitting some golf balls, and this is the largest clear patch for them to land. I don’t want to be hunting for balls among the bushes.”

“Um, why do you think you should be hitting balls around here?”

His expression seemed to say no one had ever questioned his desires or plans or his right to fulfill them. “Because it’s how I relax. And it’s allowed.”

“That doesn’t mean you must. Besides, you’re encroaching on others.”

He glared, then said insincerely as he stomped off, “Fine. Have a nice day.” He left the ladder where it was. If it’s his sign of dominance, or if he’s marking his territory, then I’ll pee on it tonight.

UPDATE: He came back for the ladder a couple of hours later.