Of old friends, fast cars and cowboy bars
Hauling ass across New Mexico, Arizona, California and back again
Every April for 30+ years I’ve gone to a god-forsaken place called Borrego Springs to attend the latest edition of “Desert Storm,” a gathering of X-Admen friends in the desert. In the beginning we partied hard, like passed-out-in-the-desert hard. Not so much anymore. These days we’re more likely to talk about our latest family cruise or sore knee as we are about beautiful women.
In thirty some odd years, I’ve never missed a Storm. Last year I flew in from West Bengal, India. This year I drove the Jag on the backroads west across New Mexico, Arizona and California. There are few things in life better than a fast car on open roads, unless its a fast motorcycle: )
Back to the Future in Los Angeles
Since Borrego is only three hours from LA, I swung by LA to take a couple of business meetings and to stay with friends. It’s been about nine months since we’ve been back and its pretty much the same: lots of action, lots of traffic, lots of good times. Did I mention the traffic?
Cowboy Bars and Six Shooters
Much of the country I was speeding through is Cowboy Country. Wide open spaces, ranches and doublewides sprinkled here and there, with towns small enough that the gas station is also the local grocery store. Jerome, Cottonwood, Strawberry, Rye, Snowflake, Whipple, Hunter Creek, Show Low and Skull Valley are a few names that we sped through.
Out here, the family sedan is the four-door pickup truck, preferably super-sized. This is why pickup trucks out sell basic cars in the United States. Most of them are 4WD cause it snows a lot around here (there was still lots snow in the mountains and on the side of the road in early April).
Spend time around here and it becomes pretty clear why this country is so divided — we live different styles of life with different core values. We just like different things. My bet is most people are here because they want to live “out here,” with few people, lots of space, and no government. But here’s the deal, why do we have to be so angry at each other? Must it be a zero-sum game?
On my way home I was filling up at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Literally every pump had a pickup in front except one: mine. All the men had long beards and were wearing t-shirts and torn CAT caps. Then, one old guy came up and said, “Man, that’s a beautiful car!” Turns out in a previous life he owned an old Jag. Then another guy across at another pump, chimed in with a smile and a thumbs up.
For a minute, we all shared our love of beautiful cars. It was one of the best parts of the trip. Maybe we can find a few things that we each like?
Well, its back to the salt mines, e.g. finishing the Hoop House. I’m confident that we’ll get it done in time to use it this year: )
Fred
The Silver Bullet is aging like us. Great report, keep em' coming.