Out of sorts most of the morning. Between you and me, I just don’t like it when the Cassie and I are waked up in the middle of the night by the sound of gunfire. Even when I get back to sleep, it leaves me feeling damn crabby come dawn.
It wasn’t even automatic or semiautomatic gunfire. Sounded like what my Ruger would sound like if I decided to discharge all its ammo in one happy little frenzy. Six (maybe eight — by the time I woke up a couple of shells could already have been fired) rounds:
BANG…BANG…BANG…BANG…BANG-BANG.
Fvck you very much.
It came from the war zone to the north, which is inhabited by a) a dangerous meth-dealing gang and b) a hapless contingent of America’s poverty-stricken underclass. So, the gunfire could as easily come from some happy drunk who, in a moment of inebriated joy, decided to ejaculate a loud noise into the air as from some entrepreneur shooting at his competition. Either way, though: trash. It’s trashy. Trashy. Trashy. Trashy.
Well, I’ve been looking at real estate and found a patio home in Scottsdale, near the border of North Phoenix. Still unfortunately south of the crucial demarcation line for the middle class, the freeway dubbed Arizona Route 101. But nevertheless: bordering a fancy country club to the east and a tract of $600,000 shacks to the south. One could practically walk to the Whole Foods.
But do I really want to move to 56th Street and Cactus? To do so would be to say good-bye to friends, church activities, and son. It’s a LONG way from North Central, longer still when you’re old and it’s after dark. Why? Just so I don’t have to listen to gunfire in the night?
If I’m going to move away from everyone and everything I love, I’d just as soon move to a whole ‘nother town. Prescott, for example.
Which brings us to my neighbors’ activities.
The guy has hooked up his fifth wheel to his truck. The thing’s a VAST living room on wheels that stretches as long as the north side of his house. To frost the cake, he’s now got himself a four-wheel ORV, which he’s stacked on top of the damn thing. LOL!
I waved at him as he was pulling out of the driveway and hollered “HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!”
He emitted a maniacally joyful laugh.
His wife said they’re headed out on Thursday, long to be gone for the holiday.
Smart folks, those.
But…are they smart enough?
Think of how amazing it would be to get yourself a nice, fully self-contained RV — which I could acquire for about half the sale price of my house. Give the furniture to the kid. Donate whatever he won’t take plus all the old-lady clothing to the Salivation Army. Throw the jeans, the T-shirts, a jacket, the dog, and the pending new puppy into the machine, fill it up with diesel, and DRIVE AWAY.
Never to be seen again.
How far could you drive away from the sound of gunfire?
Images:
Standard Ruger P89, DanMP5, public domain.
Class A Motorhome, Claygate. Public Domain.
Well ok, SOME of us would like to see you again!! Even if only virtually. But I know of at least one pair of folk who travel the country in their RV most of the year and it’s pretty interesting to see. I don’t know them well enough to ask how that works with their finances, daily routines, etc., though.
When SDXB and I were junketing in his, I met a couple who had their RV tricked out to hold their computer. Apparently most RV parks have wireless connections. They actually continued to run their business while they were on the road. And they were living on the road.
A friend of a friend did something like this. She sold her house, down-sized her possessions, and bought a trailer. Then she took it on a road trip for a couple months. She wrote a blog about it, too: http://womenwalkabouts.blogspot.com/
I think it sounds appealing, but the practicalities bother me. Driving something so large and cumbersome as an RV or hauling a trailer would be a challenge for me. I’m used to driving small cars and I have an abhorrence of heavy traffic and twisty mountain roads. I can’t imagine pulling a trailer in conditions like that!