NEW MEXICO

The first thing I noticed as I entered New Mexico on Highway 10 is the astonishing amount of freight rail traffic.  I saw five fully loaded freight trains in my first twelve minutes in the state, all pulling east or west with two or more diesel engines in front and (usually) a pusher in the rear; the terrain was getting  mountainous.     As I climbed higher, I saw hayfields, huge fields of nut trees, cows, fireworks stands, and the ubiquitous trains, trucks, and trading posts.  The land became more rolling and greener than Arizona, but still dry.

Plenty of fireworks, though.  For six hundred bucks (less 30% because you're spending more than one fifty) you could blow up the neighborhood.

I didn't detour to Truth or Consequences, NM (I'm one of the few who remembers when the town changed its name), but I did pass through Deming, "Home of Pure Water and Fast Ducks."  Didn't see any ducks--I expect they were too fast, like the cartoon Road Runner and the famous three legged chickens.

Like everyone else in the desert, Deming had its tank.

                         

Passing through Arizona and New Mexico lands roamed by Cochise, Mangas Coloradas and the Chiricahua Apaches was spine tingling.  The Apache had a good run, and were done in largely by US Army treachery.

Although New Mexico was prettier and more diverse than Arizona, I felt rushed because of the solar delay and missed a great deal.  I bypassed Carlsbad Caverns, White Sands Missle Range, Taos, and fortunately, the 40 inches of snow southern New Mexico got in December and the 105 inches northern New Mexico got.  Passed by the biggest dairy farm I've ever seen, though. 


NEXT: TEXAS.  FREEZING COLD TEXAS.

PHOENIX and TUCSON

Finally got the solar completed.  Seems to work fine but I haven't had a chance to try it out because I've been visiting, first for three nights in Phoenix at the home of one of my two best fifth grade friends, Jim ("Max") McBride.  Max's dad Jim was my dad's best friend and we moved next door to the McBrides when I was eleven.  Our neighborhood in Pittsburgh, Mt. Washington, was a little rough.  All dads were blue collar (if they had jobs) and all carried...issues.  Max's home life was, shall we say, not statistically predictive of success, but he was always surprisingly centered and connected to people then and is still. One of those guys you feel optimistic around.

We had a great time.  I caught up on the news from Mt. Washington and we filled in the forty year blanks, and watched the 1960 World Series 7th game on DVD.  (We saw it on TV in 1960, but not together.)  Did some hiking, too.  Beautiful uphill climb to Squaw Peak in particular.

I probably shouldn't say that Max was shamed into climbing the last little bit by a 69 year old lady on her way down, but it is the sordid truth.

The coolest thing in Phoenix was the Musical Instrument Museum, a collection of over 15,000 musical instruments.  It includes instruments from nearly 200 countries, with audio and visual displays corresponding to the instruments.  You can hear the different instruments played as you stand in front of the displays with headphones on.  Staggeringly beautiful.  Has an interactive section where you can try unique instruments as well. 

We also took a trip to a Steeler bar; Max has deep and constant connections with Pittsburgh and its sports teams.

I didn't get a chance to spend much time with Max's wife Kathy, but she thoughtfully baked some cookies and banana bread for me to take along.
Metropolitan Phoenix, more than 4 million people, is essentially flat, but has small mountains abruptly rising like pimples in random spots.  It was founded about 1865 by a Confederate Civil War veteran who engineered irrigation canals based on ancient Indian canals.  Much of its growth has been led by developers, often in cahoots with corrupt officials and sometimes organized crime.  Don Bolles, a writer for the Arizona Republic, was murdered by a car bomb in the city in 1976.  It was believed that his investigative reporting on organized crime and politics, particularly the relationships in Phoenix between real-estate developers, organized crime, and out-of-state corporations, especially in regards to land and housing fraud, made him a target.  Phoenix real estate took a major hit in 2008, similar to Las Vegas.

Phoenix is incredibly profligate with water.  There are many golf courses and lots of greenery in this desert spot, and there is apparently no tiered water metering.  Water is cheaper here than it is in Marin County, and it's wasted.  The volume of water coming out of the shower at Max's was staggering to me.  And, of course, everyone has a pool if they can afford it.

With the exception of two modest downtown areas, everything seems to be one or two stories, resulting in sprawl.  The summer heat can be overpowering; the large stadiums are domed.

Tucson once was larger than Phoenix, but no more.  Water is not brought to Tucson by the same system as Phoenix and it is noticeably scarcer and more appreciated.  In Arizona I crossed over numerous rivers and creeks and, without exception, they were bone dry.  All had names, though.

I visited my cousins Kathy and Patti in Tucson and spent a night in their home.  They plan to take a road trip around the country in a year or two.  K & P live in a surprisingly large and well built manufactured home in a community of perhaps 550 manufactured homes.  Very common in the southwest.

I did see some new homes being built and, surprisingly, some commercial building, including a new tilt-up.  Don't see much of that in California any more.  To the east is Apache country, where Cochise led his people in their struggle against the white settlers.

NEXT: NEW MEXICO

SOLAR!

At long last, the solar panels and related equipment have arrived and have been installed by Bob, an expert in the specialty field of RV solar installation.  His work is generated by word of mouth--his past clients are passionate advocates.  I will be too.  Bob does not like to install solar on homes because it costs too much and because he doesn't like goverment subsidies (he has a Sarah Palin bumpersticker on his truck).  He's the fastest electrical worker I've ever seen, moving from place to place as he works with a motion that would be a run if distance allowed.  Doesn't waste a SECOND from the time he arrives till the moment he leaves.  Yesterday we got the panels installed and connected on the roof and got the control panel set in the RV.

I've been helping Bob because I desperately want to get this done.  He's had me drilling holes in all the mounting brackets, screwing the brackets onto the panels, and other tasks that don't require too much thinking.  I spent about four hours on the work and easily saved him thirty minutes, no matter what he says.  I also did a great job cleaning up and putting things away after he left yesterday, and I know I was very helpful when he was fishing wire through and needed someone to say, "I see it!  It's through!"  No way a guy can do that without climbing up and down from the roof.

Bob maintains a strict focus and keeps things right by talking to himself, saying out loud what he's doing and what he's going to do next and so on.  While I was helping him I found myself saying, "What? What? Say again?"  I quickly got the idea that he'd get my attention if he needed it.  I did recognize that if I wanted to understand what he was doing and why all I would have to do is stand and watch; I could get an audio visual tutorial of the whole process.  If I had any aptitude at all for this suff it would have been incredibly useful, but alas...

He's from Roundup, Montana, and has a place overlooking Musselshell River.  Looks like Tommy Lee Jones, less fifteen years, fifty pounds, and five inches.  Got his first break working as a draftsman for an engineer named Stark (first name), one of those rare but memorable businessmen-mentors who give responsibility to people if they show the ability to handle it.  Stark wasn't hung up on formal titles or degrees and, given the opportunity, Bob flourished.  After eight years he moved on so he could get out of the office more.  He seems to have found his niche.

Like a lot of problem solvers, Bob sees most clearly what doesn't work and gets extremely frustrated about it.  His scorn for most RV solar installers is relentless.  Observing that most (he might say all) installers oversell, overprice, and underdeliver, he spends a lot of his time correcting installations done by big outfits who ought to know better.  He likes to pretend he's gruff and hard--he has an entry on his website titled "The History, or how did I end up so angry?"--but he's extremely sensitive to what people need and even more so to what they can afford.  A lot of talk and a lot of thought go into his designs, and when he's done you have what you need--no more, no less--plus the flexibility of adding more if you want and of taking your package to your next rig if you move up.  His estimate of the hours my installation required was exactly correct.  His estimate of material was off by twelve cents on what I ordered and twenty dollars on what he supplied.

His wife, Noreen, bakes her own bread and cookies.  I got a cookie but he wouldn't share the bread, just let me look atit.

Today he finished installing the inverter and doing all the wiring.  He was also going to run a propane line to hook up a new heater for me but some of the parts haven't come in yet.  My way of helping is by staying out of the way and by not rocking the RV too much when I'm inside.  I'm very sensitive to the little things.

I'm anxious to get out of town.  I've been here nineteen days now, far more than I expected to spend in one place. Looks like I'll have to wait until Monday to get the parts for the propane heater and have it connected.

Today is my son Owen's 27th birthday.  Happy birthday, Owen.  I love you.

NEXT: PHOENIX and TUCSON