L.A.'s my Lady
The Safari Bar is Still
There!!! As we zoomed by the Safari bar in Lower Asuza, I knew I was home.
I told Christy to take the picture but it was too late. We were part of
the traffic flow. There was no stopping, no slowing down, no nothin. What
that means to you is no picture. I'll try and make up for it.
I made a mistake. It was
Timothy McVeigh who lived in Kingman. But I think Nichols had a connection,
too. Somebody please set me straight. I stopped by the Kingman tourist office
and inquired about the whole deal. A lady pointed out at a mobile home park
where McVeigh used to live. I think she was proud. I was scared to ask anyone
else, because they all looked like they might have been in on it.
This morning we left around
11:00 a.m. and headed out to Oatman. I mentioned earlier that Oatman is
a ghost town along route 66 It was about a 45 mile detour, the first thirty
of which were over a windy hilly desert mountain. I realized about 15 miles
into it that I was on reserve. I didn't tell Christy, 'cause I figured she'd
get upset. She would have given me some grief about how I didn't check my
gas before we left and how we were gonna die on a windy deserted roads inhabited
by coyotes and snakes. I just wasn't in the mood. We made it to the Oatman,
though. And had lunch. We then had to drive an additional 10 miles to a
gas station.
The woman at the restaurant
turned us on to a gas station with cheap gas. It helped us out. She used
to be a paralegal in L.A., but moved to the Mojave with her husband. She
then got divorced and now lives with his best friend in this town with a
population of 150 (and that's in the winter).
Oatman's people
are far outnumbered by the mules who live there and roam the streets wildly.
You can pick up pellets or carrots and feed them right in the middle of
the street. They are decsendants of the mules who were brought there at
the turn of the century to help mine for gold. These mules were as stubborn
as mules. People had to stop and back up and drive around them. The mules
don't move for no one! It is their turf! It prepared me for my return to
the gang ridden streets of Los Angeles. Who knows? Maybe I'll come across
a "mule" who does not wish to get out of my way. Only this mule
will have a gun. What will I do? I don't think getting out of the car and
feeding him carrots is gonna do. I'll try though. Maybe gang members like
carrots.
It was 112 degrees today in Needles. Just last night in Flagstaff, it got as low as 53 degrees. That's some serious temperature change. My car is not too happy with the heat. It didn't seem to like the cold either. What were these vans made for. I mean, what do Dead Heads do? Or are they called Phish Heads, now? Do they all know how to fix a solenoid? Am I the only loser out there?
For fear that my car wouldn't start again, I didn't stop it. We drove straight
from Needles to Los Angeles. About 6 hours. Some serious heat. BARSTOW SUCKS!!!
But not as much as Rancho Cuchomunga.
It is good to be in L.A. Lots of traffic. I've got to return the camera
to New Orleans. So, dear reader, this is where I bid Adieu. Thanks and Good
Night !
fin
Write me on this lonely road.