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Weekend at Havasu




Aah! Night falls, and the Little Woman and I are sitting in the tent trailer. A boat went by,so the waves are lapping at the beach. The temperature probably dropped to 65 now, from a comfortable 75 at the peak of the day.
This is our second 'shakedown' with the pop top tent trailer. I fixed the brakes- they were applying too much brake and the trailer dragged the bike down. A simple crank of the rheostat on the side of the actuator (Oh, there it is!) and problem solved. The only challenges left are handling 3/4 of a ton of bike and trailer, with two wheels one behind the other pulling two wheels side by side. It just feels...unnatural.
The Little Woman and I mastered setup. Can't take more than 15 minutes, not allowing for twenty minutes of deciding which way to face it. We can't seem to master one another.
Havasu is a wonderful little town, complete with the London Bridge. At dinner tonight, Dad told us a story of meeting some Brits on a tour, and telling them about how Mr. McCulloch went to London, purchased the bridge which was sinking and falling apart, numbered and disassembled it, reassembled it on dry ground in Arizona, then built the dam and the bridge is over water. One of the women, after hearing the story, huffed, "I don't believe one word of what you said." Another responded' "Our queen would never allow something like that to be done!" Our queen, indeed. You lost the war, and it's been downhill ever since. Next thing you know, Prince William will marry a commoner or something.
Dinner at the restaurant tonight overlooked the lake and bridge. It has been modernized with accent lights, and huge wreaths hang from it. A small boat skims below, the water rippling out in a V. Beautiful. Maybe the queen should have held onto it.
Mr. McCulloch, bright man that he was, built the bridge and avoided taxes because he claimed it was an antique, therefore not subject to tax. What do you know, he prevailed. As he should have, since it is an antique in every aspect.
Dad golfed today, and claimed he was rather happy we hadn't gotten there earlier, as after walking the course, he sat in the recliner for a half hour. 90 years old, and he has to chill a bit after hiking the course. I consistently remind him that most people his age not only don't walk the course, they are dead! I don't think he gets it. He wants to be in better shape.
He does seem to age faster now. the difference between 90 and 88 is like the difference between 88 and 83. He fights old age kicking and screaming. That's good really, as that's what keeps him as young as he is.
Funny thing, he has a book on his coffee table titled, 'The Coming Economic Earthquake,' by Larry Burkett. Written in 1991. One of those doomsday books. I thought Dad was smarter than that.
Guess who forgot the sleeping bag? Yep. We have a comforter, so we'll see how that works. Perhaps a shakedown lesson would be to develop a written list of stuff to bring. I'll need to write it down; "Make a list."

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