Snowbirds

We reluctantly said good-bye to Rick and Meg this morning. The mercury was already well on its rise to its ultimate height of 104º F, Ozzie was having a hard time conforming himself to the back seat so he sat panting down  our necks as we contemplated the rather grim desert landscape…the traffic chocked freeway, the view of the San Gabriel Mountains obscured by brownish, hazy smog, the dry, dirty rock covered hills…

Not much hope of getting a beautiful scenic shot today, so I concentrated on finding something that illustrated why we don't usually travel down this way in August. Julia helped helped me make today's choice. She rejected  interchange, several layers high choked with traffic in the middle of nowhere as not telling a story.

In desperation, we decided  on the back of an RV directly in front of us. How could our eyes fail to avoid it?  Clearly the elderly couple in the front seat prefer to travel in the south, but avoid Florida. We wondered why. I can think of a lot of reasons why I  wouldn't care to go to Florida, that doesn't really explain why a couple who have been to every other state south of the Mason Dixon Line have chosen to bypass Florida…

There is a well known group of elderly retired couples who buy RVs , leave their wintry, snowbound states in the North and meet with other similarly minded retires at designated campsites throughout the sunnier southern states, But this is August. It is 104º in the shade in the middle of the desert.
They should be in Minnesota. But they have a Nevada license plate. 

We are now at Matt's house. He just got home from work only to be greeted by granddaughter Julia with, "Hi Dad. Did you sell your company today?" He responded with, "Your (designer distressed) pants are torn…you might want to take them back and get some better ones". Epic eye rolling…as only a sixteen year old has mastered.

The sun, still boiling hot, is definitely over the yardarm…time for a glass of rosé...