I might have invented a game

The game is like Heads Or Tails, only it’s about whether the avocado pit will be in the left or right half when it’s opened. For another level of guessing/betting, there’s the question of whether the avocado will be unripe, ripe, or too ripe. And if two people with avocados open them at the same time you can play Same Or Different. Then make guacamole.

Wish list

Let’s say I could afford any replacement for the Rolling Steel Tent I wanted. What would I get? A tricked out 4x4 Sprinter or Transit with a high roof? A step van? A box truck? A Unimog?

Nah. I’d want something very similar to what I have, with a few minor improvements. Here’s the wish list:

• Chevrolet Express or GMC Savana cargo van (because they’re tanks)

• 3/4 ton (a 1/2 ton would probably be enough, but they stopped making them)

• V-8 (my 4.8L is enough, but now the only engine choices are the 4.3L V6, the 6.6L V8 and 2.8L turbo diesel 4 cylinder)

• Silver (so I don’t have to deal with white paint peeling)

• Sliding side door with tilt-out window (see this for why I prefer a sliding door)

• Tilt-out windows on the back doors (ventilation, man)

• Passenger seat delete (because I’d remove it anyway to make room for the fridge)

• Power windows/locks/mirrors (because I’m tired or doing the door lock walk around, and I'd like to roll the passenger side window up and down from the driver seat)

• Cruise control (because I cruise)

• Blind zone alert (always good on a van)

• Backup camera (because I have one now)

• Automatic locking differential (for the iffy roads)

My needs are simple. 

White air

I’m in Pahrump. The wind is out of the south. And the sky is weird. There are mountains to the east, the city and mountains to the west, but they’re invisible today. It doesn’t smell like smoke, taste like dust, feel like fog, or trigger my allergies like pollen. It must be the end of the world.

It was another one of those mornings

I woke up just before the sun crested the mountains. My first thought: this bed is very, very comfortable. I enjoyed it for another minute, stretching, scratching, letting out a deep breath. The desert lit up. G-o-o-o-o-o-d morning.

I tossed off the covers. The Rolling Steel Tent was comfortably cool. I slid open the door to let the sunshine in. I pulled on my pants and shoes and stepped outside.

The air was fresh and clean. It was quiet. The yuccas and creosote bushes were rimmed in light. Some of the rocks sparkled. I was still and absorbed the moment.

Whatever else was happening in the world, it wasn’t here. It wasn’t weighing on me. It was just this beautiful, peaceful morning. Another one of many. Another one I wouldn’t have experienced if I was living my old life.

Today’s haul

Four 15-packs of cheap-ass beer

Three bottles of cheap-ass vodka

Two 1-liter water bottles

One 1-quart milk bottle

One small Pringles can

Three random pieces of cardboard

About a dozen no-longer-wet wet wipes

One sock

Night noises

As I drifted up out of sleep I became aware of a faint repetitive plik… plik… plik… plik… 

Huh? What’s that? water dripping?

I sat up and turned my head side to side, trying to ascertain the direction the sound was coming from. There was a brief pause, then plak… plak… plak… plak… plak… plak…

I moved toward the front of the Rolling Steel Tent, hoping it wasn’t a mouse gnawing on something. The sound seemed to come from outside. I had left a bag of collected litter by the door. Had a critter broken into the bag, (re)scattered the contents and was now trying to chew a discarded water bottle?

I stuck my head out. The bag was undisturbed. The elusive noise changed to KAK… KAK… KAK… KAK…

There were headlights about a hundred yards away silhouetting a figure. Ah, that’s it. Someone is trying to drive tent stakes into the rocky ground. Oh, the misery of desert pavement. Oh the misery of setting up camp in the dark. What time is it anyway? 2:38 AM. Someone had badly miscalculated travel time, or had trouble along the way. Here’s wishing better luck, amigo.

At least I didn’t have a rodent problem. That I knew of.

These are the people I hate

The public land on the east side of Pahrump NV is littered with, well, litter. It can be windy here, so it’s somewhat forgivable when some lightweight something-or-other—a plastic bag, an empty water bottle, a paper towel, etc.—slips away and ends up stuck in a creosote bush a quarter mile away. Some litter blows in from the developed parts of town, where it seems trash cans and dumpsters have no lids. But some of the crap is just flagrantly dumped here. Like this:

I discovered it while gathering trash around my campsite. I don’t know what this pile was wrapped in originally (a blanket?) but the sun and heat have turned it into something that looks like dryer lint. Picking this up would require more resources than I have, starting with a backhoe and hazmat suit.

All clean

Way back, during one of my first visits to Pahrump NV, I discovered the Horizon Market, a convenience store out on the west side of town that had public showers. I knew it had showers because it said so in large letters across the front of the building.

I was feeling grimey after a week in the warm, dusty desert. I wanted something more than a sponge bath, so I headed to Horizon Market.

"Uh-oh," I thought as I turned off the highway. The store facade had been remodeled. It no longer listed showers. Did that mean they had stopped offering them? Although the guy behind the counter had sort of a surly desert rat look, he was quite affable and assured me they still had showers and that the price hadn’t changed. Two bucks for the shorter shower, four for the longer one. I splurged.