Sunday, November 18, 2018

Is it a pattern?

I’m a big fan of slow traffic keeping to the right, even when I’m the slow traffic.

I’m also a big fan of long following distances, especially since it takes a while to haul down the Rolling Steel Tent, even with fresh brakes.

I don’t like squeezing between vehicles in order to make lane changes. Give me a nice big gap in case the guy ahead hits the brakes or someone behind does something stupid. And especially if traffic in the left lane is going a lot faster.

So, there I was, cruising south on I-5, keeping at or below the 70 MPH speed limit most of the time, keeping in the right lane as much as possible but gradually closing on slower traffic. When there was plenty of empty right lane ahead—a quarter mile, a half mile—and I didn’t need to pass anyone, traffic on the left was usually light.

Lots of following space, light left lane traffic

But when I’d use up my following distance and would want to pass, the left lane would suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, be filled with a long line of tightly packed traffic, usually driving about ten miles per hour over the speed limit. And vehicles behind me in the left lane would be merging into the gaps in the left, making the line even longer. I would need to slow way down until the left lane cleared, which always seemed… to..… take…… for………. ever.

Needing to pass, lots of left lane traffic

I started planning my passes sooner, but it still meant fast traffic way back there would be on my ass before I could make it around a couple of semis, an RV and someone in a small truck with a big trailer. And another semi. So I would wait. And wait.

But perhaps the most frustrating and infuriating situation is when a lone vehicle, going just a fraction of a sliver of a hair faster then me is hugging my flank as I get closer and closer to the slow traffic. PASS ME, DAMMIT! Nope.

This jerk

Oh well. I don’t need to drive that type of highway very often.

Waking to reality

Once again I had another series of dreams about being back at work, with troublesome coworkers and the deadlines for too many projects looming. For some reason, cold Mexican takeout cluttered my office. (What did burritos and quesadillas have to do with anything? Meals missed?)

But the anxiety of those dreams turned to happiness when I awoke. Oh yeah, I’m retired. That’s not my life anymore. I’m free.

Good morning, freedom

Friday, November 16, 2018

California fire escape

It wasn’t until I crossed over into the desert that the air started looking mostly smoke-free and I could see more than a half mile or so.

Thursday, November 15, 2018

Su casa es su casa

Staying in someone else’s house is weird. No matter how much they say to make myself at home, I just can’t. And, honestly, they wouldn’t want me to. Because, to me, being at home means wandering around in my underwear (or less), leaving the bathroom door open, eating out of a pot while standing at the sink, spreading various projects on all available horizontal surfaces, going the entire day without talking to anyone or acknowledging their presence… Instead, I play the role of the Good Houseguest. That’s exhausting.

It’s not any better when my hosts are away, when I’m watching the house and tending the pet. “Here are the keys,” they say, “and the emergency contacts, the wifi password, and the instructions for that slightly malfunctioning appliance. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge and cupboards.” But left unsaid is, “Don’t steal anything, break anything, befoul anything, clog anything, flood anything, set anything on fire, or conduct a criminal enterprise. And, most of all, don’t go snooping around trying to discover our embarrassing secrets. If you accidentally discover an embarrassing secret while looking for, say, a garlic press (though why you’d be looking for it in the master bedroom closet is a mystery) just erase that new knowledge from your brain. Otherwise we’ll have to kill you.” That means I need to play the Good Houseguest on the Honor System, which is twice as exhausting, even if I’m free to drink all the tequila, naked.

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Good dog

Caira has all the qualities I’d want in a dog. Smart, obedient, even tempered, well socialized.

I was concerned she might reject me. But she saw I was accepted by her owner, so, presto, I was a member of the pack. She responded to my commands as if I’d been with her all her life. That was particularly important when she was off-leash in the dog park. Just call her name and she comes right to you.

We go out at least twice a day. She knows when I put on my shoes she’s going for a walk or ride.

Does spending one-on-one time with a fine dog like Ciara make me want to have a dog again? No. It’s more responsibility than I want right now. And I don’t want to repeat the heartbreak of needing to put a dog down. So I’ll just enjoy other people’s dogs. The good ones.

Sunday, November 11, 2018

Pet sharing

This is Caira. I’m looking after her for a few days while my friends are away on business. Besides having canine companionship, I get to stay in a casita with such luxuries as hot running water, high-speed internet and a view of San Francisco Bay.

Friday, November 9, 2018


So, let’s say you’re feeling a little lazy and don’t want to make the 340-mile trek from Lake Isabella to Mill Valley in one day. Where might one stop for the night that’s about half way there? And free?

Well, the nice folks at the Harris Ranch Inn & Restaurant in Coalinga let RVers and riffraff like me overnight in their parking lot.

I found a space away from the RVs. There’s faint traffic noise from the freeway but the smells from the restaurant compensate for it, as does the free no-password-needed wifi.

Smile for the camera, again

I was driving through a California canyon when a Google Street View car passed in the opposite direction. The Rolling Steel Tent will be featured if the cameras were on. They might not have been, since that highway is already on Street View and nothing about it warrants an update.

A few years back, Google Satellite View captured Lou, Jo and I camped together in Joshua Tree.

Thursday, November 8, 2018

Know before you go

As the kids’ book reminds us, everyone poops. But not everyone poops in a bucket in a van. And some people who want to poop in a bucket in a van just can’t. Maybe they have physical limitations that prevent them from squatting on a bucket or un-squatting afterward. Maybe they’re grossed out by pooping in something other than a flush toilet. Maybe they’re the type who can only poop under certain conditions. Maybe they worry about making a mess with their mess.

Well, this is something folks should figure out before committing to living in a van. Because it could be a deal breaker. Get a bucket and some bags and try it out before driving away from the world of indoor plumbing. Your first experience will probably fit somewhere on a scale with Impossible at one end and No Problem at the other. For me it was This Is Weird and Will Take Some Getting Used To. After a few days it was totally normal. Hurray for adaptability.

But bucket pooping isn’t the only thing to try out ahead of time. For example, will you actually be comfortable with your planned bed? Will you be able to cope with not having hot water from a tap? Out in the boonies, with all your “normal life” bridges burned behind you, is not the place to find out.

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Double bagging

I had checked the forecast, so I knew it was going to be in the low 40s last night. Ordinarily that wouldn’t be a big deal, but I haven’t had time yet to re-acclimate to cooler temperatures. No problem, I’d just don some wool socks, pajama bottoms and a long-sleeve t-shirt and pull my down quilt over my head.

At about 2:30 a.m. I sensed I needed more to keep me warm. So I reached into the cabinet and pulled out my sleeping bag. Quilt over sleeping bag, two layers of downy goodness with a cozy pocket for my feet, which are always the first to complain about being cold.

But around 4:00 I woke up sweating. Yup, that’s what too much insulation will do to ya. So I ditched the sleeping bag and was fine for the rest of the night.

This is a variation of the game I play during the transition into and out of summer. Can I get by without the blanket, or will my legs and feet get cold? Sure, some type of thermostatically controlled central heating and cooling would solve the problem, but it would create the problem of being in a building.

Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Monday, November 5, 2018

A bad penny returns

There was a junction ahead. A choice presented itself. Turn west as planned or continue north? The latter option would mean backtracking in a couple of days. But it also meant one of my favorite locations. And showers at the hostel. So I continued on to Lone Pine and Alabama Hills instead of crossing the bottom of the Sierras.

I’d left a month ago because it was getting chilly. And I was getting antsy. But I’m back for one last visit until spring.

Sunday, November 4, 2018

A girlfriend!

Someone’s girlfriend, anyway. Considering she’s at the Hub Cap Capital of the World, maybe she’s the Queen of Caps. Or simply Ms. Pearson.

Where’s the Lug Nut Capital?

Saturday, November 3, 2018

Hit and run

Near Parker AZ

From Quartzsite to Eherenberg to Parker to Joshua Tree National Park. A night here, a night there. On the move, feeling antsy, making progress toward being in the San Francisco area in a week.

Joshua Tree NP

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Changing it up

I’ve lost count of how often I’ve camped around Quartzsite. Most of the time I’ve set up camp at either Scaddan Wash to the east of town or Hi Jolly to the north.

This time I decided to check out the Roadrunner dispersed camping area about eight miles south of town, at the intersection of US-95 and La Paz Valley Road.

I like it. It’s flat, rather smooth and, at this time of year, nearly empty. There’s almost no sound from highway traffic and no neighbors running generators or zooming around on ATVs. That’s hard to beat.

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Bugs beware

You know it’s an exceptionally buggy season when they’re selling two-packs of spray. Two cans, zero tolerance of flies and no-see-ems.

Monday, October 29, 2018

Where and when?

The tail end of Hurricane Rosa passed through Arizona earlier this month, dropping eight inches of rain on the Sonoran Desert in an hour or so. Things are very green, which is excellent for the desert. However, it also means the flies and no-see-em’s are more plentiful and annoying than they have been in a long time. They drove me out of Why. (Actually, I drove myself, but you know what I mean.)

I need to be in Mill Valley, California, on the tenth to dog sit for a friend. Twelve days to go about 670 miles, several ways to get there. Since it’s one of those five-week Social Security months my route and stops along the way need to be as economical as possible. For example, I should avoid California gas prices, but sticking to Arizona and Nevada as far as possible means a longer route, which would use more fuel. I'll figure something out. I always do.

In the meantime, here’s a song about Mill Valley.

Give me land, lots of land

As I posted earlier, Lou bought some land in New Mexico. Here it is. It already has electricity and a well. There’s also a refrigerated shipping container and a ramada that could be the beginning of a house. There are no restrictions on what he may or may not build on the land. And it’s in a part of southern New Mexico that doesn’t get too hot or too cold.

Lou saw the property while looking for other land. It wasn’t listed for sale, but he asked some neighbors about it. They contacted the owner back East. Yeah, he was willing to sell.

A couple of days ago, as a welcoming gift, the neighbors who put him in contact with the seller came over and mowed his grass. Nice people.