Mostly Anecdotal

Every year I say we should fly to Arizona to visit my Father In Law and every year we drive the 750 torturous miles from Salt Lake to Yuma Arizona. It is I suppose my wife’s fear of flying that decides it. She has come to tolerate a major airline but no way am I going to get her into a propeller driven plane that looks like a giant cigar. No major airlines land in Yuma so we would have to be fly to Phoenix and then catch the cigar to Yuma. I know we could simply fly into Phoenix then take a bus or van or some such to Yuma, but that would be 150 miles on the road and hell there is really not a lot of difference between 150 and 750 really.

So off we go Thursday afternoon, headed for Mesquite Nevada, and my father’s condo. I’ve learned that driving 750 miles straight through is even dumber than driving in the first place. So three hundred miles of uneventful low flying down Interstate 15 until we reach the Virgin River Gorge you remember a Million Dollars A Mile I couldn’t resist another picture of the Gorge. A little dinner at the Casablanca not good. There was a time when I thought casino food was good and cheap, now its just cheap. A little culinary treat one would expect eating at the local choke and puke. Twenty, Forty, Sixty dollars into the tightest slots in Nevada and we’ve had our fun at that casino. Why the hell do we gamble anyway. The signs say guaranteed 96% return. I believe that means that if I invest my money there they guarantee to return less than I invest. So on to the Virgin River Casino another Twenty in the Slots. Perhaps the Blackjack table will be kind. I start with fifty dollars an hour later I have only ten. Time to quit, but you know how gambling is it kind of sucks you in. There is the Roulette Table. Five dollars on the nine five dollars on the eleven and holy shit I hit the nine One hundred seventy-five dollars back in my pocket, and I didn’t let the terrorists win.

On the way back to the condo we note the new casino in town, well not really new it just has a new name. Gail says do you want to spend a buck or two in there. No way I say, did you see what they named it. The Eureka, no way in hell I’m going to take my money into a building named after a vacuum cleaner. I fully expected to see a flashing sign saying come on in we’ll clean you out in no time.

The next day we complete the second half of the trip mostly two lane roads filled with FUV’s (fucking utility vehicles). Between Las Vegas and Searchlight we are listening to Depche Mode on the stereo. My son Tim tells me the title of the song is Comatose it occurs to me that Morrisey is probably planning a lawsuit, what the fuck do they think they’re doing don’t they know that’s my trademark.

We continue on to Needles, Parker, Quartzite. Quartzite is a favorite spot of the Snowbirds during the winter. They all park there RV’s out in the desert and tell each other what a great time they’re having. Their entertainmeant consists of playing cards and buying and selling their crafts. It’s a little bit like a giant Ebay in the desert. But damn the desert is beautiful. I love the Joshua Trees, and the Saguaro cactuses.

We had a nice visit with Gail’s dad Earl. He just celebrated his 83rd birthday, and about a week ago had the seventh hole-in-one of his long romance with the game of golf.

I always feel a bit uncomfortable riding with someone I haven’t ridden with before. That was exactly the situation I found myself in at 7:15 on a Friday morning. Rising before the sun, something I try to avoid, I headed for the rendezvous spot. I considered staying at home and when the inevitable where are you call arrived claiming I had overslept. I’d tell them I’d meet them at the destination so as not to make us late. I considered it, but overcame my fear and arrived at 7:10. I parked my car, and waited for the others to arrive. At exactly 7:15 all parties were present. I took a seat in the back secured my seat belt and hoped for the best. Rick, a gregarious soul, translation a salesman, was our driver. We began with the standard small talk, the early hour, the weather, but it wasn’t long before the conversation took a strange turn. It didn’t seem strange at first, but well you’ll see what I mean.

Rick must have noticed my nervousness and tried to put me at ease, explaining that he had just purchased new tires Big O’s best. “They’re a little bit noisy at low speeds, but they last forever,” he said. We took Interstate 80 east out of Salt Lake and began the long ascent to the summit. We were on the road only a few minutes speed at a constant 70 when Rick remarked. “See much quieter at highway speeds.” Oh, yes I thought he’s talking about the tires. Fifteen minutes later as we approached the summit the car a late model Chrysler Concorde shifted into a lower gear. Rick seemed a little bit embarrassed. “I’ve got the small V-6 in this car it bogs down a bit on hills, even with only the driver” he said. “But it gets really good gas mileage. I recently got 29 mpg on a trip to Las Vegas. That was with just the wife and me in the car”. He looked relieved as we cleared the summit and started down the other side. “These new cars provide all sorts of valuable information”, he said. He’s punching buttons on a small LCD display just above the rear view mirror. The display reads forty-seven degrees Fahrenheit another button, eight degrees Celsius. Still another now its thirty-one miles per gallon.

“We’re going down hill” I remark.

Another button, “Right” he says, “We’re averaging 24 miles per gallon. “

“I believe it’s mostly uphill going to Evanston; Salt Lake is 4500 feet above sea level. Evanston must be six or seven thousand.” I said. That seemed to cheer him up. We continued on passing Echo reservoir.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it this low,’” he said. I agreed. “Look the boat ramp ends and the water level is even below that”. All of a sudden we’re taking an exit, a view site. Let’s take a closer look he says. I’m not sure why we’ll be driving along the shoreline for another 5 minutes plenty of time to see all I want to see. We don’t get out of the car, sit and look for maybe 10 seconds and on our way again.

The sun is just creeping over the mountain as we begin the second half of our trip. It shines brightly into the car through the front windshield revealing a little dirt in the corner of the passenger side. Brent, who is sitting in the front seat squints as the sun shines in his eyes. Rick sees the reaction but somehow misinterprets it. “Look at that he says dirt on the windshield. I thought I’d cleaned that, I was up at 5:00 am cleaning, and I used Windex.”

Did he think we cared?

“This is embarrassing,” he said. “It was the Windex with vinegar I wonder if that has anything to do with it”. Suddenly he pulls off the road. I can’t see what it is he is trying to avoid; I don’t see anything in the road. He pulls to a stop, mumbles something about the windshield and goes back to his trunk. He reappears on the passenger side of the car a blue rag in his hand. He starts rubbing the windshield vigorously at the spot where he had noticed the dirt. Brent, being somewhat of a joker, and a little amazed at the performance we are witnessing keeps pointing to spots and saying I think there’s a spot there oh and another here. Rick is like a puppet on a string the blue rag appearing wherever Brent points. Brent finally realizes that Rick doesn’t see the humor in the situation and stops his pointing. Rick rubs for a moment or two longer and returns to the drivers seat. “This is really embarrassing he repeats, I really did think I’d done a good job on that window. We drive for a few miles more and Brent, or the devil in him starts gazing at the windshield as if he sees more spots. Rick a little panicked says right, why didn’t I realize the dirt is on the inside. The blue rag reappears. He is now steering with his left hand and rubbing the inside of the windshield with the rag in his right. I’m starting to think my uneasiness was well founded. He notices my nervousness and stops rubbing, returning his full attention to the task of driving. I relax a little, Rick comments how its important to keep your mind on your driving, and relates a story about the time he hit a deer late one night on highway forty. “There were two of them” he said, “the first cleared the car to the other side of the road, the other doubled back, his mistake, his last. I took a good piece out of him. You can’t imagine the smell of deer parts spread down the side of your car. Not to mention your windshield.” The mention of the windshield seems to divert his attention. He’s shaking his head; “I just can’t stand this,” he says. Once again he was steering to the side of the road. I didn’t look for a reason. I knew. Out came the blue rag and once again, he was rubbing, then leaning back examining the place he had just rubbed and renewing the assault on the windshield.

Brent started to point out imaginary dirty spots, until I said, “come on Brent we’ll never finish this trip if you keep that up”. He smiled and stopped. A few minutes later Rick was back in the car. We were just miles from the Wyoming State Line when Rick noticed the flashing red light in his rearview mirror.

“Damn,” he said. “I’m sure I wasn’t speeding. “What the hell do you think he wants?” “I think we’ll soon find out”, I said. He pulled to a stop and rolled down the window.

The officer said, “please step out of the car sir.”

“What’s the problem?” said Rick climbing out of the car.

“I’ve been following you for the last 30 miles and to say the least you’re driving has been a little erratic. Have you been drinking sir?”

“I don’t drink,” said Rick.

“How do you explain your frequent stops, and what was that waving your hand at the windshield and swerving from lane to lane.”

“I was cleaning the windshield,” said Rick.

Beginning to write out a ticket, the patrolman said, “and with such a clean windshield sir I’m surprised you missed the no stopping or standing on freeway sign. .I’m citing you for reckless driving, and making unnecessary stops. I don’t know what your problem is, but I suggest you clean up your act.”

Back on the road at last. I was shaking my head and Brent was just smiling. .

Rick said, “Can you believe that guy, I felt like giving him a piece of my mind.”

“Right” said Brent “and find yourself in room with no windows to clean.