There is a post coming on the Squirrel Obstacle Course, but I’ve been too busy to edit the video. So all I’ve got for you is a generic update of randomness. Your excitement is palpable, even from here.
But you’re really wondering about the naked people, right? Don’t worry, that wasn’t just a catchy title, they’re coming. Err, umm, maybe they already did? I don’t know, I didn’t get to ask them.
RV Slide-out Issues
The living room slide on my RV has issues. It probably needs therapy, but I can’t find an RV shrink within 100 miles. There is only one, yes ONE, RV technician willing to make the long drive to this town with ten cows for every human. When describing the problem to him, his answer didn’t exactly exude confidence. I can tell he’s never encountered a problem like this one before. Crap.
I can’t close the slide to drive it to the shop in which I have more confidence over an hour away (they can’t come out, but it’s Camping World).
In Winnebagos with a couch attached to the living room slide-out, the carpet under the couch is covered in a sheet of clear, thick plastic (like Visqueen). This wraps around under the slide to protect the other carpet that’s part of the house/coach floor.
Most of this plastic/visqueen has come lose, rolled up under the slide, and is sticking out of the weatherstripping on the outside. (see photo) When I attempted to pull it out all the way, I realized . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Naked people, RV issues, and kitties.
He-heh. I need a sign like this for my rig.
On my way to Texas, I stopped in Tombstone, Arizona, home of the infamous OK Corral. No longer the dangerous, wild western town for which it’s so well known, it has become an off-the-beaten-path tourist trap stop.
Downtown Tombstone, Arizona… seems a little quiet.
One vendor seemed hell-bent on getting me to join the ghost tour. Even the vendors in Mexico were less aggressive – and that’s saying something.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Tombstones in Tombstone, Arizona
Calipatria, in southern California, boldly claims to hold such distinctions as possessing the “World’s Tallest Flagpole” and being the “Lowest Down City Below Sea Level in the Western Hemisphere”.
The population is around 7,700. That includes the 4,000 inmates at the Calipatria State Prison. If you’re as good at math as I am, you’ve already figured out more than half the population consists of incarcerated criminals.
I only take you guys to the best places.
While the library is the size of some apartments I’ve lived in, it still has several internet access stations.
As I walked toward the intersection, a young gal was leading her cow across the street. Yup, she was out walking her cow. On a leash.
Calipatria is known locally as “CowPat” because of all the cows, and more to the point, because of their numerous patties, the pungent scent from which is often blown all the way to Slab City, a beefy 12 miles away.
Calipatria, California: Lowest Down City and World's Tallest Flagpole – according to the local government. Who just may have escaped from the local prison.
At 184 feet below sea level,
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : I got down, way down, in Calipatria.
The scene: An empty two-lane highway at 8:30 pm on a Wednesday night.
My car: The nice tow car previously pictured, carrying two blond-haired white people (me and the aforementioned house guest) slowly driving back to their campsite in Slab City after a day at the nearby RV park pool, hanging with sober people. (The sober part will be of significance further in the story.)
Behind us: A car is tailgating. For almost 15 minutes.
They could easily go around us on the empty highway.
A couple extra white lights come on over their roof. Then the side spotlight as seen on cop cars comes out. Within seconds a red light comes on, so I pull over.
Two dimwitted Border Patrol agents creep up on the right side, stop about ten feet away, and peer towards the interior of the car, fear and suspicion on their face.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Border Patrol = Reno 911
This post is a mish-mash of the highlights from the beginning of my new year, much of which seems like an episode of the Twilight Zone.
I’m not able to post as frequently as I’d like since I’m on the road in remote locations. My internet is spotty and electrical hookups aren’t always available. That’s what boondocking is like. And you all know how I feel about the boondocking.
Ladies and Gentlemen, next stop The Twilight Zone…
Caution: Reality Ahead (but it only *looks* like reality)
A house guest, I have one.
For a few weeks. Holy Shatner! I can’t believe it, either. This one seems to be a very good one. One who cleans up, and helps around the rig with BBQs and hooking up the new toad. We are heading toward Arizona for a couple weeks before my house guest returns to their home state. [The name of said house guest is withheld to protect their reputation (notice I didn't say 'to protect the innocent') because associating with me might, well, you know, not be good for someone's reputation. Besides, we're still trying to decide who is the Gypsy and who is the Tramp.]
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves. Allegedly.
I was immediately pulled over by the cops. Normally, a short skirt and long blond hair are enough to get you out of trouble in L.A. It helps if you’re also a celebrity or able to make a large “donation” to the police department. They didn’t even give me a chance to run over a stop sign or drive crooked. Mighty unfair of them. . . . → But wait, there’s more! : I Break Out in Handcuffs When I Drink Alcohol
This should totally be mine.
The Earl of Socks, and other relatives
Rumor has it my family is related to a bunch few famous people. Most of whom you’ve probably never heard of.
Ted McGinley, the cute actor. One of his more well-known roles was as Jefferson Darcy on ‘Married with Children’. Yes, that guy! He really does look like the male members of my father’s side of the family. My aunt knows the details, but we’re distant cousins or something… which is too bad because otherwise he just might have made my last list.
On my mother’s side, we’re related to Bertrand Russell, 3rd Earl Russell, a philosopher, mathematician, humanitarian, and Nobel Prize winner. (Apparently, the “smarts” aren’t necessarily hereditary, otherwise I’d be famous rather than infamous.) We’re related through the Duke of Bedford. By all accounts a nice guy, but it seems Bertrand’s life was a bit of an emotional roller coaster at times. Here’s a quote from his biography:
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : The Earl of Argyll Socks, and Other Relatives
Me, to the bartender, “I’d like a carafe of Margaritas, salt the rim of the carafe, and stick a straw in it.” . . . → But wait, there’s more! : 18 With A Fake ID
I learned to mix drinks, quite well actually, and we all had a grand time drinking up the liquor cabinet after school. When the booze would run low, Dad would just replace it. Awesome. *hiccup* . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Drinking and Smoking: My Childhood Memories
Have you ever been to a brothel? Of course you have! Well I have, too. Three, actually. All on the same day. I’m a studdette like that. . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Sex in Carson City: My Trip to The Brothels – UPDATE