I’m not sure if this is becoming another of those very long chapters in our lives (we’ve had others), or if this is a blurb cluster. (Okay then, consider it the third in a series.) I’ve written before of the RV disaster in the summer of 2014 pitting our Forest River Windsong home on wheels against the finest RV mechanics west of the Rockies. Or maybe not (the finest). (See previous RV related posts.)
After the better part of two weeks parked near Findlay’s RV where we waited for parts and they ran the gamut of fixes, including the new radiator, it was determined that the engine was still running hot. Certainly too hot to make it to Pahrump NV (our original Fall destination); and was cautioned by the mechanic who installed a separate temp gauge at the insistence of dear hubby not to try to pull those hills, especially with the “toad” (our little Geo Tracker–also not the healthiest engine block on asphalt). After being offered under $10k for the RV as she sat, said dear hubby in a fit of unfathomable defiance threw the last of our groceries and water inside the tin can and we headed south for Yuma AZ–our Winter destination–the Yuma Foothills: Golf cart, ATV and sand rail heaven.
We’d been told about the Foothills in 2013 and discovered it was everything–and then some–we’d been told. Delightful winter destination of thousands (including 
a surprising number of Canadians), the annual migration of white-haired guests termed “winter visitors” which apparently spares the connotations of “snow bird”. The area fairly bursts with activities geared for the winter visitor, including the welcome back parties, craft fairs at most of the RV parks of any size, and humongous RV shows, both in Yuma and Quartzsite 
among their usual winter festivals and air shows–a major desert celebration. The easy proximity to Los Algadones MX makes it just too easy to pick up on the go-to products: chocolate, booze, drugs, dental care and glasses–CHEAP! Of course, I promptly became involved in the craft fairs taking my grandfather’s books 
and with some varying success sold a few books and met a lot of very neat people, other authors, and the vendors. These are hard-working people carting loads of crafts, inventive and imaginative, to a different venue perhaps as many as 5 per week. It’s hard work that I quickly discerned was incapable of doing back-to-back.
Ruminating on the previous summer, however, as we basked in balmy temps under sunny skies with heady desert perfume in the air, of the monetary mess that remained–discussions ensued regarding deft handling of the resultant debt which apparently only a (gasp!) job could cure. Inquiries, current resumes’, applications, and dozens of calls later resulted in even WalMart snubbing us. Dear hubby, healthy, hard-working man that he is, decided he’d go to the Yuma Truck Driving School. NOT my idea of a good retirement career! My mother used to term these years (which I took to mean anything under 80) “the youth of old age”. 
My youthful hubby is now a full-fledged flat-bed truck wrangler based out of Phoenix (yes–Arizona). The man is nothing if not resourceful! 
Sad to leave Yuma but in the meantime we have driven that same RV without incident hauling the toad and all our belongings to 
an RV park appropriately named “Destiny” in (what else) Goodyear (short drive to the yard).
I’ve been looking around and thinking I’m going to like it here! This place is ahappenin’, But wait–it’s only April–and July’s acomin’!
