Many of you know that I have a phobia about driving over bridges. Yeah, I know, that bridge has stood for years, it’s inspected periodically, and a thousand cars a day drive over it. But I just know that if that darned thing is going to commit bridge suicide and collapse, it’s waiting for me to come along so it can take me with it!

Yesterday on our drive to Nevada, we crossed Hoover Dam and Miss Terry got some great pictures of the new Colorado River Bridge project that is being built to span the canyon above the dam to divert traffic away from the dam itself.

 I can tell you right now that there is not enough money in the world to pay me, or enough drugs to calm me down enough that I’ll ever drive or ride across that bridge! I think the guys building that thing must be half monkey and half mountain sheep, and whatever they’re paying them isn’t enough. The bridge is erected on both sides of the canyon, and the center sections still have to be put up. It’s a massive engineering project, and there were crowds of people stopped at the dam watching the progress.

Speaking of mountain sheep, we had to stop at the safety inspection checkpoint a few miles from the dam on the Arizona side, and just as we pulled back onto U.S. Highway 93, Terry spotted a beautiful ¾ curl ram standing on a hill right beside the highway! What a beautiful creature!

I mentioned yesterday that we were going to look at a RV for sale in the Las Vegas area. What a fiasco that was! Folks, I have met some hustlers in my time, con men who could charm the ears off the Easter Bunny. But I think we encountered the king of crooks. A week or so ago I saw an ad for a 2002 Winnebago Ultimate Freedom motorhome in the Phoenix newspaper, listed as like new, with 28,000 miles on it. I called the number in the ad, which was in Las Vegas, and was told that the rig was being sold due to a death in the family. The price and terms were right, so I said we’d come by and look at it.

Monday evening I called to say we’d be there yesterday, and arranged to call the seller, who said he was a relative of the owner, at noon when we were in the Las Vegas area.

When we got to town, I called as agreed, and he said he was hung up on something and to call back in an hour. Okay, unexpected things happen, no problem. We dropped off a sample bundle of newspapers at the Thousand Trails campground, stopped at a couple of stores, and then called back. All I got was voice mail.

We grabbed a bite to eat, and at 2:30 I had not received a call back. I tried one more time, reached the seller, and he asked if we could meet at 5 or 6 p.m. I told him no, we were headed back to Kingman if we couldn’t get together. He said he was having the rig detailed, and gave me an address to meet him at.

That address turned out to be his home, and his wife/girlfriend/bimbo said he would be there in 20 to 30 minutes. I learned a long time ago that if a deal feels bad going in, it won’t get any better once you’re stuck. By now I already knew we were not going to deal with this clown, but I wanted to play it out and see what happened. Finally, at 3:45 the rig pulled up, ran over the curb, and a guy stumbled out who probably spent the morning on a street corner with a sign that said “Will Work For Food.” As it turns out, he was not the seller, but the fellow who “detailed” the rig.

When we stepped inside, it reeked, it was filthy, and it was beat to pieces.  The carpets were stained, the curtains were falling off, the counter top was cracked, it smelled of sewage, and crud was everywhere. The guy tried to tell Miss Terry that all RVs smelled that way when you drive them, and she quickly cut him off and told him that we’re in the RV industry.

Looking at the odometer, the rig actually had 59,833 miles on it, the sliding side window was smashed, and the data plate identified it as a 2000 model, not a 2002. To top it all off, there was a Las Vegas Auto Auction bid sheet on the dashboard! Yeah, right, a death in the family. I’d have had to been brain dead to believe any of this crap!  

It didn’t take us long to get out of the piece of junk, and then I looked at the street side, and one bay door was completely caved in! I teach a class on how to buy an RV, and this heap was worse than any example I’ve ever given my students. It was junkyard material, as far as we were concerned.

As we were leaving, the seller called me on my cell phone, and was amazed that I wasn’t falling all over myself trying to get my checkbook out fast enough to complete the deal! I was born early in the morning, but it wasn’t early that morning!

Thought For The Day – He who dies with the most experiences wins.

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We pulled out of Pacific Manor in Apache Junction just before 10 a.m. yesterday, got on the 202 Loop and followed it west to Interstate 10. Even though it was a Sunday morning, traffic was fairly heavy and we were grateful that we had decided not to wait until today to leave for Kingman.

We left the interstate at the 303 Loop, a nice two lane road with light traffic, and followed it north a few miles to U.S. Highway 60, which took us into Wickenburg.

Whenever we set out on a trip, even a relatively short 225 mile journey like this, I always try to have two or three alternative stopping points in case we need them. You never know when weather or mechanical problems can put you off your intended schedule.

The weather forecast had predicted strong winds later in the day, and we figured if the wind became a problem we’d stop at the Escapees North Ranch RV Park, a few miles from Wickenburg, for the night. But there was just a slight breeze, and it was coming from behind us, so we hooked up with U.S. Highway 93 in Wickenburg and kept on rolling. It’s not often we get a tailwind, even a slight one, and I didn’t want to waste it.       

We were a little concerned about how our bus would perform on the trip, because we’d be doing some climbing, and the temperature was in the mid-80s. On a couple of hills we slowed down quite a bit, and I had to downshift into second gear and run the radiator misters, but we managed okay.

About 110 miles north of Wickenburg, we hooked up with Interstate 40, and just as we got onto the highway and turned west, the wind really started blowing hard, slamming us broadside. It was another 18 miles into Kingman, and I fought the wind every inch of the way. If we would have been much further from our destination, I’d have found a place to pull over and wait until the wind died down.

But we made it fine, and arrived at our friend Mike’s house just after 2 p.m. We got parked and hooked up in his driveway, and about the time I completed those chores the wind really got serious. All afternoon and evening it rocked the bus viciously, and we said a silent thank you prayer that it held off until we were safely off the road.

It’s good to be here with Mike, we always enjoy our time together. He and I go back more years than the two of us have fingers and toes to count, and there have been some adventures neither of us is willing to admit to, back when we were young and foolish. Now that we’re old and foolish, we’ve toned it down quite a bit, though. We’ve not gotten any wiser with age; we just don’t have the energy any more to pull some of the stunts we used to.

Thought For The Day - It’s terribly unfair that youth is wasted on the young.

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