February 22, 2000, Tuesday- a hard start to the day. Getting ready for our departure, Susan hit the button to bring in the bedroom slide- and the motor turned, but the slide did nothing. Immediately I knew the cause- a sheared roll pin in the gear assembly had snapped. This is designed as the weak link. So, a call to Fleetwood- just push the slide in manually- and block it so it doesn't move out on the road- and head to a repair facility. As the wise men said- easier said then done. An hour later I had pushed and pulled the slide in 90% of the way and a neighbor helped for the last 10%. Another call to Fleetwood to get them to set up an appointment in a week in Mesa, and I found out that they usually have 3 or 4 hefty guys do what I did in closing the slide.
As we left San Diego, and headed east on I-8- we started climbing. At over 4000' we finally reached the summit- and you could see the snow just above us on the hillsides. Glad we did it today and not yesterday. After our decent from the mountains, back to sea level, a rest stop provided a good lunch spot. This turned out to be a great spot because, just across the highway, was an airport that was being used by the Blue Angles as a practice area. They went through their full routine with loops, rolls, low approaches, etc., before our very eyes.
The new park that we are in- in Yuma, is on the Cocopah Indian Reservation, and has a par 70 18 hole golf course, plus the full program of activities, pool, etc., etc., and phone hookups on each site. Real world joys.
February 23, 2000, Wednesday- an alarm clock set for just after 6- so we could make an 8:15 tee time- was way too early. Since we just went from Pacific to Mountain time- it was really 5 AM and still dark. Yuck! Anyway- we had a split tee time for today- a morning play on the back (before those starting on the first tee came around), and a 3:07 on the front side. It was cool, 52, and we were stiff, and I was still hurting from yesterday's fight with the bedroom side. So, hard to grip and still harder to swing the clubs- we persevered. But we played with three other nice folks- yes- they send out mostly fivesomes…and had to figure out how not to hit the motor homes parked on the edges of every fairway. Many had mesh nets set up for protection- and we found out that a company in town rents these to renters of the sites- for $25 per month, per section. Many had two or three sections of fencing. In the afternoon we had a better, in terms of feeling good, nine holes. Just wait until Friday for the next tee time. Oh yes, we met the neighbors from Chula Vista, down the street, and shared a happy hour with them. Small world!
February 24, 2000, Thursday- the forecast rains never materialized- so we decided to walk across the border into Mexico. It was a different experience from our past border crossings. First, the entire economy of the town is based on the US tourist. Twenty percent are dentist offices, same percentage for eye care- exams, glasses, and contacts. Equal for leather shops with pocket books, wallets, jackets, and luggage. Equal amount for junk shops with all the ceramics, metal and wood pieces. And last but not least, pharmacies. All the prescription drugs available for a small fraction of the price. A $100 per month drug for Mom is $40 here for the name brand, and $20 for the generic. No wonder the Americans come over the border in droves for affordable drugs and services. They even have plastic surgeons on the main street. And most surprising- was that everything felt safe and all the merchandise was clean and presentable. Other than a lunch at a restaurant with a Maruichi band, there was nothing that we needed.
February 25, 2000, Friday- golf was on tap today on the Cocopah RV course- and even though it's a short, 5000 yard, par 70 course- Susan and I each out did our prior golf. We each shot a 90. Beyond belief! And what a record I set- with par four- I was laying two 90 yards from the pin- and whack- right into the cup, birdie! A few holes later, another par four, on in two, and a long put in for a second birdie! Another par or two, and 90 was in the bag. It was almost like being a real golfer.
On our walk back to the coach we stopped at the RV from the folks we had met in Chula Vista…that preceded us by a few days to Yuma. They were have a happy hour with three other couples that they were traveling with. In chatting, one couple had a particularly interesting background- of having spend 5 or 6 years sailing the South Pacific. They had to provision for several years of staples since many of their planned stops were in truly remote corners of the world.
February 26, 2000, Saturday- again we had a split tee time. But a early rise showed an outside temperature of only 41…it had to warm up in a hurry to play an enjoyable round. Fortunately it did. For the back nine, which we played with the same threesome that had earlier in the week. But, what a round. First the good news. I shot a 43 three on the first nine, which again was the back nine, and a 42 on the last 9, for an 85 total. And since the group that we played the second half with played from the blues, and not the white… the score, for me, was even more satisfying. A bird and lots of pars. Oh, and for the bad news, besides birds and pars, I toed a shot on a tight fairway into the back of a Cadillac. Monday the owner will let me know the cost of removing the small dent and repainting. Still, to shoot an 85, even with an 8 on the "car" hole, was my best by far.
February 27, 2000, Sunday- a call from Phil yesterday revealed that he, Freddie, and Geoff wanted to visit us on Sunday- so we cancelled our golf plans, and picked them up at the airport at 10. (Karen was busy with a golf tournament). Now Yuma is working class, military, and border town. We had asked several people, some within the RV park, and several from the outside- where to have a nice Sunday brunch. Well, got answers from Jack in the Box, to Denny's, to Shoney's to Carrows. Without any major hotels in the area, another option was eliminated. But, we chowed down an acceptable meal at Carrows, and then went to two street fairs in the old town section of town. Everyone enjoyed the different crafts, and Hobbes, surprise, couldn't walk 10 feet without some hands on his face, and a few dozen questions to Susan and myself.
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February 28, 2000, Monday- the wind howled all night as a dry front passed through. At 3 AM I put on the minimal clothing and rolled up our outside green mat. I feared we would never see it again if I didn't do the rescue. In the morning lots of lawn furniture and some mats were helter skelter. I did a quick wash of the coach and car today- to get rid of some of the blowing desert dust. Afterwards we did a bike ride through the old town, the territorial prisons, and the old train depot. Oh yes, the owner of the golfed car showed me a few estimates from local body shops, and I gave him a check. What was interesting to me, was that the dollars were in the range that I expected, but the composition was reversed. The hours were much greater- but the $36 per hour shop rate was half of what it would have been in the Vail and Denver areas.
Looking back at the park, we were lucky. Of the some 800 spaces, except for those in the pet area, the rest were subject to lots of damage from the errant balls. We sure wouldn't expect that most spaces were in the war zone. Naturally those with seasonal spaces get the safe sites, and the short timers, like us, get the "others".
Much of the surrounding area is still dedicated to agriculture, and we received an education by watching the action. All the farms have been graded to dead flat, so that the water canals, via the lock systems, can be flooded as needed. Back braking harvesting of lettuce was observed, as was seeding and plowing of naked fields. Some were planted, and the fields flooded for their initial irrigation. Others had white sandbags placed at set intervals beside the fields. At the opposite ends were matched sets of markers. These guided the tractor drivers who sprayed insecticide and other farm "stuff" on the crops. I guess all in all, the drive back to town was a display of America passing before our eyes.
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