3:10 to Yuma

The City of Rocks park is something to see.

I walked around winding myself through the maze of alleys between the boulders, with something to see around every corner.

Some of the boulders stand alone, imposing in their own right arranged like buildings defining a street; others balancing unconvincingly on top of each other, ready to roll down and crush you at any minute; others still spire shaped, like the phallic sculptures at home on the Greek island of Delos.

The dog tried to chase a wild boar. Fortunately he was on a leash, so it was the one that got away.

We are starting to figure out our routines. When I first wake up, I start the electric kettle and then lay back down in bed for the 10 minutes that the water takes to boil.

After it is done boiling, I get my oatmeal started and wait for it to set. I then take out the coffee, coffee filter, a single Truvia packet for Lisa, and begin to pour over the coffee while I eat my oatmeal.

I don’t know why I only take out one sweetener packet, when I know she drinks two cups of coffee every day. It could be a passive aggressive slight saying “I love you so I’ll get you started for the day, but once you’re up, you should pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get your own damn sweetener.”

There’s not much room in this trailer, and certainly not for “I love you, but’s…” so I think I’ll just get two out next time.

We break down camp after showers and make our way down the mountain to the next town to fill up.

Whereas in Texas there is as many gas stations as baptist churches in Tennessee, in New Mexico there just doesn’t seem to be enough of them, and every trip to the gas station requires a wait of 2 or 3 cars deep at every pump. Every New Mexico gas station is buzzing with cars jockeying for position to pick the right lane, like Costco checkout lines on Christmas Eve. With our limited mobility from the attached trailer, we just have to commit to a lane that we think we can get out of, and just let the universe let it take as long as it takes.

Our stops are also somewhat determined by the availability of dump stations. The camping spot didn’t have one; the first gas station’s was out of service; and the second gas station’s sewer outlet was on a hill placing it above the camper’s connection making gravity unusable in its usual form. God forbid someone who forgot that excrement rolls downhill and tried to use this dump station anyway.

The third gas station required an attendant to come out and bring you a key, and the attendant never materialized.

It was finally at the fourth gas station of the day, that we were able to find a working dump station, only occupied by an older couple just finishing up with emptying their airstream.

It was interesting watching them interact with each other to manage the dumping procedure, behaving in the same way that Lisa and I did just a week prior, where the guy did everything, bumbling around doing things out of order, and his wife stood around looking helpless, ready to help but unsure how.

At least we’re not like those guys, getting back spray on your face from washing out the sewer hose. Don’t ask me how I know.

We drive on through to Arizona, winding through Tucson, and Phoenix, after which we begin to see the signs to Yuma, on the border between Arizona and California, as I begin to daydream about the movie, 3:10 to Yuma, and whether we’ll make the train.

We stop in Yuma to fill up one last time with cheap gas, and to stuff ourselves with our remaining bananas, so as not to risk being detained and interrogated by the fascists at the California border agricultural checkpoint.

Lucky for them they waived us through. You’ll never make me talk!

I love California, and as soon as we see the welcome to California sign, I feel like I’m back home again.

We are headed for a free camp site in the desert, just outside of Joshua Tree National Park. A gas station and restaurant owner created a spot far off the road with designated camp sites for travelers to park and rest for the night.

They were all back-in spots, so I drove head-in.

If you’re only staying the night, it doesn’t make much sense to me to try to back the trailer into a spot in the dark, when tired, after a long day of driving. It’s much easier to back it out in the morning when you’re fresh and rested and can see around you. Frankly, I’m surprised no one else has thought of this.

Happy with my parking job we, we were asleep and dead to the world in 3 shakes of a snake’s rattle.