Everytime you drive from Yuma to Quartzsite, you pass through a Border Patrol checkpoint. The Agents are always polite and nice, and I knows I have nothing to hide, but I still get a little nervous when I pull up. I think in the back of my mind I’m paranoid that I will act suspicious, and they will tear the van apart piece by piece looking for contraband.
I’ve been spending some time in Quartzsite. The snowbirds are here in full force and many more are coming in every day. It is always easy for me to find a good spot to park in the campground, though – I can get into a lot of places the big rigs don’t dare go. I like to park way back in, preferably near a grove of trees, situated out of site of the camp host. You are supposed to register with the host, even when you park in the boondocks, but I don’t think many do. Most of the time, the camp host is off-duty anyway. I don’t want to register because I’m afraid they will ask me if I’m self-contained, and then they will tell me to move on when they find out I’m not.
Tomorrow I will drive my motorcycle to the town of Bouse – the scene of the crime so to speak. It is something I am compelled to do. I’m not sure why, and it really makes no sense. Logic says to stay away and reason says don’t go back there, but until I see the place again and pass through to the other side, I can’t put it behind me.
I will spend a couple more days here and then head back to Phoenix. I have some modifications on my van that I want to make, and parts are easier to find in the city. The timing will be good too – Richard and Dianna should be arriving soon.
We should be there tomorrow afternoon if there’s not another snowstorm….
Well, you never did read the plaque you stopped to see, so you might as well go back. I’m sure you will know how to come into the sandy spot this time. Have fun. See you soon!
Remember…when border control asks where you were born say Cuba….(dramatic pause) New York.
I understand. You gotta get back on the horse…