The Adventures of Fric and Frac: Adventure 209: Covered Wagon RV Park/Phoenix, AZ/Post M

Sheesh! This retired life is strenuous.

Gee Willikers! This retired life moves by so quickly, I haven't had time to post since last Thursday. First, for the news. On Friday we spent most of the day at the Toyota dealership. We took Fric in to have the oil changed and $1393.00 later we not only had fresh oil but we also had a ninety thousand mile service, new front and rear brakes, a new front left headlight, and a complete change of all of Fric's vital fluids. We also had queasy stomachs from eating at the local I-Hop. Unfortunately, it was our only choice within walking distance. We'd have done better scarfing down the free donuts and coffee in the dealership lounge. I did manage to walk seven miles along Bell street, which is auto row of North Phoenix. it wasn't interesting, but it was steps. Our evening thrill was watching my favorite starlet (Maureen Ohara) in one of my favorite movies (The Quiet Man). Judy had never seen this classic, and I narrated each scene for her. Saturday morning began with an excellent Tai Chi session in Coronado Park, and then we met Judy's cousins for a wonderfully long day touring the countryside. We drove up to an old Indian ruin called Montezuma's Castle after which we climbed into the desert pines to an old mining town turned tourist attraction called Jerome. About thirty or forty years ago a bunch of hippie visionaries bought up the town and have restored it to a new entrepreneurial glory. I had a very pleasant chat with one of the "Hippie" chicks (Proudly self proclaimed), an artist named Anne Basset. She has lived in Jerome for the last thirty-two years or so. On this day, she was taking her turn manning the front desk at the local artist's coop. She said the coop had thirty-eight members. I bought a history of the town, and she signed my copy. It was great fun. After Jerome, we climbed up over the mountain to the cute little Arizona town called Prescott where we enjoyed an exceedingly pleasant Thai dinner. Russ, ever the competent and gracious (He picked up the tab for dinner) tour guide and driver, safely navigated us back to Happy Valley where we had left our truck. We were home by nine-thirty, and the technology was kind to us, so we were able to watch a recording of the Zags making an impressive comeback against the St. Mary's Gaels. I got to sleep after midnight and was up at 5 A.M. to meet David and Daniel for a bicycle ride to the summit (Almost) of South Mountain. We actually stopped at a place called Dobbins Point. From there you can see the entirety of Phoenix. Next week, the bunny and I will drive up there so we can watch the sunrise. The ride was about twenty-eight miles. I rode the tandem by myself, and the five mile climb (7%) was harder than I thought it would be. I will never again joke that Judy doesn't pedal back there. Nonetheless, she's not ready for that type of climb yet, so we'll use the truck. We had our usual excellent Sunday breakfast made all the better because Judy did the cooking (She won't take the job on permanently), and then we attended the service at Trinity Mennonite, which was stunning in two respects. First, the place was packed. Second, there was a large group of young families in attendance. To give you some idea, the last Mennonite service we attended had about twelve people, only three of which were children and two of those were the pastor's daughters. It was a vibrant, uplifting service. Chances are good, we'll go there again. I guess that's the summary of the last two and a half days. Believe it or not, next Sunday we enter March, which means we'll be moving on shortly after that. In all, I must say that life is good, especially today.

Truly thin gruel at the I-Hop: flat jacks, runny whites, flabby bacon. Yelp rating, not so good.

Master David Block demonstrating Yang style double stick routine.

David and his students meet every Saturday morning in this park.

Hot Rod of the day.

Happy campers anxiously awaiting the start of Russ's excellent adventure.

A photo of the desert flora and fauna taken from the window (Clean) of Russ's Tahoe.

This gentleman's gift to visitors was a exceedingly and spiritually quieting tune, which floated up and around the canyon walls, echoing visions of the original inhabitants.

Paul and Judy Classen, former Kansan's turned Denverites .

The granary of the Indian ruins.

Wedged in just under the edge of the cliffs were several of these bird nests.

Stumpy resting her leg. She looks quite good in green, don't you think.

Though you can't see it, the honey comb inside this hole is as big as peasant woman's shawl. Who wants to crawl up there and recover the sweet treat.

Once a prosperous copper mining town, Jerome now mines the wallets of tourists.

These three cute babes are most likely looking for some miners. Why else would they be grinning.

The town of Jerome is perched on a mountain side. This is the view from one of the local art galleries. Everyone who lives here has a similar view.

The owner of the gallery, a glass bower and Jerome resident for forty years, built the gallery building in stages.

Anne Basset, a Jerome resident for thirty-odd years, has made the artist's dream come true. She works in watercolor, oil, pen and ink, and pencil. She says she likes all styles. More importantly, she works on site. She thinks working from photographs is cheating.

A nice young gal snapped this group photo of us. I'm holding a copy of Home Sweet Jerome, the story of the town's rebirth (The Hippie version).

The Friesen cousins.

One side of the square in downtown Prescott. The center of the square is the Court House. It's bordered on four sides by a string of buildings much like these.