How many lumens do YOU have?

This cartoon reminds me of conversations with other van dwelling guys, usually in the winter when there's a shortage of daylight.

Automotive individuality

Both seen at the Desert Laundromat, Buckeye, Arizona

Night lights

It was lights out and computer off in the Rolling Steel Tent when I became aware of the glow of the Phoenix metro area about fifteen miles away. Rather than get dressed and shoot a photo outside, I did it from the comfort of my bed.

I give you the gift of...

You could buy them and others here.

Don't wanna be a bum / ya better chew gum

According to experts on the subject, a hobo travels to find work, a tramp travels but doesn't work, and a bum neither travels nor works. I guess that makes me a tramp, since I'm lucky enough not to need to work. (My Social Security check auto-deposited today. Yay!) Or maybe that makes me a retiree hobo.

As I was reading on the subject of hobos and tramps, I ran across an article about the hobo ethical code. Bet you didn't know they had one. I didn't.

At the 1889 National Hobo Convention in St. Louis, a strict ethical code was established for all hobos to follow.

1. YOU DO YOU. Decide your own life, don't let another person run or rule you. 

2. SHOW SOME RESPECT. When in town, always respect the local law and officials, and try to be a gentleman at all times. 

3. DON'T BE AN OPPORTUNIST. Don't take advantage of someone who is in a vulnerable situation, locals or other hobos. 

4. GET A JOB. Always try to find work, even if temporary, and always seek out jobs nobody wants. By doing so you not only help a business along, but ensure employment should you return to that town again. 

5. BE A SELF-STARTER. When no employment is available, make your own work by using your added talents at crafts. 

6. SET A GOOD EXAMPLE. Do not allow yourself to become a stupid drunk and set a bad example for locals' treatment of other hobos. 

7. BE MINDFUL OF OTHERS. When jungling in town, respect handouts, do not wear them out, another hobo will be coming along who will need them as badly, if not worse than you. 

8. DON'T LITTER. Always respect nature, do not leave garbage where you are jungling. 

9. LEND A HAND. If in a community jungle, always pitch in and help. 

10. PRACTICE GOOD HYGIENE. Try to stay clean, and boil up wherever possible. 

11. BE COURTEOUS WHEN YOU'RE RIDING THE RAILS ... When traveling, ride your train respectfully, take no personal chances, cause no problems with the operating crew or host railroad, act like an extra crew member. 

12. ... AND WHEN YOU'RE NOT.  Do not cause problems in a train yard, another hobo will be coming along who will need passage through that yard. 

13. HELP OUT THE KIDS. Help all runaway children, and try to induce them to return home.

14. SAME GOES FOR HOBOS. Help your fellow hobos whenever and wherever needed, you may need their help someday.

15. LEND YOUR VOICE. If present at a hobo court and you have testimony, give it. Whether for or against the accused, your voice counts!

There might be a little conflict between not letting anyone rule you and having a set of rules you're expected to follow, but you get the idea. I think it all boils down to not being a bum.

Treatment for itchy feet

I often have a hard time staying in one spot for more than three or four days—even if it's a nice place. I start hankering for a change. It probably has something to do with a lifetime of feeling restricted, or a need for new experiences. Something, anyway.

But I think I've discovered a way to deal with that urge, to reduce my wandering. A little. Rather than relocating fifty, a hundred, two hundred miles or more, it might be enough to move only a mile or two. A new campsite in the same general place, or even within the same park.

I stayed about two weeks in the Sedona/Cottonwood area. That's forever in Rolling Steel Tent years. But I camped in four different spots. A new place, a new view.

Then, yesterday, after a few days in one part of Buckeye Hills Regional Park, Lou, Jo and I moved to a different spot about a mile down the road. If I stand on tiptoes I can see where we were before, yet I feel like I could stay here a little longer.

A new spot a little farther down the road

So, today's hypothesis is that maybe it's just the act of relocating, not the distance traveled, that calms the urge to wander. Maybe it's like flipping the pillow and changing position in bed in order to get back to sleep.

A slightly different view from a slightly different campsite

I did something similar to this a few years ago. I was booking a vacation on Cozumel, trying to decide on a hotel. An all-inclusive resort way out toward the south end of the island? Maybe the place with the highly rated dive operator? Or what about one downtown where there's more to see and do? I decided to split my stay between all three of them. My vacation seemed longer and more interesting. (And I learned all-inclusive resorts aren't my kind of place.)

I have a feeling, though, that by the end of this week I'll want/need to take a much bigger leap on the map. I think I hear the Pacific calling me again. (Well, it's always calling. I just try to ignore it.)

Night visitor

I had been in bed with the lights out for a couple of hours, but I wasn't asleep. I was thinking (ow). I turned on a light to get something and discovered this, on the ceiling, about eight inches from my face. Surprise.

Slightly larger than actual size

I don't fear spiders. I just don't want them snacking on me. It's annoying and itchy. This arachnid was kind enough to hold still for a photo and a smashing.

However, given the fly problem here, maybe I should have let it spin a web. Too bad spiders are active at night and flies are active during the day.

A screwdriver might work as well

This is the key to the Rolling Steel Tent. The better one of the two I have. It's not the original Chevrolet key. I don't know if this is even the first replacement. But it has been working just fine for the two years I've had the van.

Lately, though, like in the past couple of weeks, I sometimes need to jiggle the key a little in order to start the van. Time for a new key, right? But how good of a copy can they make from one this badly worn? I guess I'll need to find out, because I don't want to be replacing all the locks.

It's always something.

Homeowner porn

There was a TV in the frozen yogurt shop. (Televisions in stores is a subject for a different rant.) It was tuned to HGTV. I used to watch that channel. A lot. I wanted ideas on how to fix up my 60 year old house.

But I fell out of love with home ownership, which means I also fell out of love with HGTV. At first I was just indifferent. But now, after two-plus years living out of a van, I discovered I was rather disgusted by it all. People whining that their walk-in closets aren't huge enough, that the ceilings aren't high enough, that they don't have a twenty-seat home theatre or wine cellar.

No, I don't expect everyone to live a minimalist life like me. Yes, I understand the home building, remodeling and decorating industries keep a lot of people employed and money flowing through the economy. But, people, seriously???

Then there was a commercial break, and I got more pissed off.

I spent 36 years in advertising as an art director and copywriter. So I am not sinless. But I would have hung my head in shame if I'd created commercials as dumb and annoying as the ones I saw. Forget the level of hype and borderline lies. They were just awful from a creative point of view. Trite, unimaginative, grating, unnatural, lacking in charm.

It's not totally the fault of the creative teams, though. Most of it can be laid at the feet of MBAs who were taught that advertising must conform to certain formulas. Say the product name X number of times, state the product benefit Y number of times, end with a call to action, and so on. As long as you do all that, entertainment value is irrelevant. Because they believe the formulas are magic. Use them and customers will be irresistibly compelled to buy your product or service, even while they hate you for interrupting their programs with crap. Sadly, there's a tiny bit of truth in that. And if/when the advertising fails to generate the desired increase in sales, the MBAs can say, "Hey, it's not my fault. We followed the formula."

All this is why I was happy to throw in the towel on my career a few years earlier than originally planned. Get out of the depressing ad racket, get out from under the burden of home ownership, free my mind and soul. And stop watching television.

Change of scenery

With everything accomplished in Los Algodones and Yuma, and with the weekend crowd moving in, we were ready to leave Fortuna Pond. And the flies.

Now we're at Buckeye Hills Regional Park, off highway 85, north of Gila Bend. We're surprised there's plenty of room, especially since it's handy to Phoenix. If it had been full, the alternate plan was to turn south to Ajo. Now we get to do both.

Jo and Lou are across the road

Tilting season again

Today, sunrise was at 7:00 and sunset will be at 5:44. To make the most of the decreasing amount of daylight, I tilt the solar panel up to get the early morning and evening light.

Since my panel tilts only one way, I also move the Rolling Steel Tent through an arc over the course of the day. (It's made easier by not having a lot of stuff outside that would need to be moved.) As a bonus, keeping the passenger side of the van turned to the sun means warming sunlight can come in through the side door when it's chilly outside.

Pond life

Sometimes Fortuna Pond isn't all about the water.

Más gringos en Mexico

Lou and Jo wanted to get new eyeglasses in Los Algodones. I went along to make a little group outing of it.

Here we are outside Best Optical after getting their eye exams and ordering new lenses. Lou also ordered frames. We had two hours (instead of two weeks, like in the US) to kill before they were ready, so we strolled around, shopping for hats or whatever else we might find. Then we had lunch at a cafe named Mulca's (I think).

Bigger hats, more shade

Jo and Lou found some nice wide brim hats. Only $10 each. The shop keepers were very nice, very friendly, very funny. I didn't need another hat, but I've always got a kick out of lucha libre masks. Unfortunately, my head is too huge for off-the-rack masks. Que lastima.

But I didn't leave empty handed. I got a couple of pounds of shrimp, fresh from the Sea of Cortez. Lou grilled them up this evening, Jo made some avocado salad and we gorged ourselves.

The first pound goes on the grill

Yum!

The carnage

Personally, I enjoy eating grilled shrimp shells and all. After all, they're covered with seasoning, and shells add a pleasing flavor of their own. And it's easier. Lou and Jo tried one that way, but they weren't convinced. Que lastima.

Upside down

In non-Bizarro World, it gets warmer in the Northern Hemisphere when you go south and when you go to lower elevations. Quartzsite is at about 880 feet elevation. Yuma is about 80 miles south and at about 140 feet. But it's about 20 degrees cooler in Yuma (where we are today) than it was in Quartzsite (when we were there yesterday.) Because a weather front has blown in. The differences between Quartzsite and Yuma are nothing to the weather.

But, you know, it was just a little too warm before. This is rather pleasant. Unless it decides to rain on us for more than a few minutes. That gives me the trapped-in-the-van feeling.

Welcome back to Yuma

Gas was about 25 cents per gallon more in Quartzite. So even though Yuma has become noticeably more crowded with snowbirds in the past week, it's sort of worth it.

Lou wants to go to Los Algodones for new eyeglasses, and he didn't want to go there straight from Quartzsite, so we're at Fortuna Pond for at least a couple of days.