Tucson

by Steph

Well, it was bound to happen at some point. On our way to Tucson I was driving, listening to music, singing along, letting my foot get heavier and heavier, until I crested a hill and saw two police cars perched on the road. I slowed immediately, but crossed my fingers that they wouldn’t bother me over an extra 10 MPH on a fast road.

No such luck. He pulled us over, but in a departure from usual speeding ticket procedure, made me get out of the car and stand by the police car while the cop poked his head in our car and spoke to Steve for a minute. Strange.

Then he came back to me and asked ‘How’d your car get so dirty?’ Well, we tried to get to the Toroweap lookout on a muddy road, and didn’t make it…we didn’t wash the car because we thought it was funny. Ha ha.

‘Why’s your licence plate so clean?’ Well, we brushed it off because we thought it might be illegal if you couldn’t read it. And we didn’t bother to clean the car because, you know, it was funny. Ha ha.

‘Where are you coming from? Where are you going to? How long have you been on the road? How do you have enough money to do that?’ Well, we worked our city jobs and saved and didn’t spend money on anything and said no to our friends when they invited us to restaurants, and never used our credit cards even when we wanted to, and sold all of our nice stuff so that we could trade it all in for living in our car for 5 months, which we got dirty and didn’t wash because, don’t you think it’s funny? So dirty! Ha ha.

He had asked Steve the exact same questions. He realized it was the truth, and issued a reduced citation (which could have been very expensive indeed, but he was pretty nice at that point and gave me the smallest fine possible). I don’t know why he thought our car would be dirty with a clean plate, or what that might indicate about us, but whatever the reason I firmly believe it was this oddity and not the speeding that attracted his attention. We took the ticket and made for the next carwash.

Unpleasantness over, we headed into my old stomping grounds: Tucson, Arizona. It was 80 degrees out. We took a drive to see some old hangouts and my old house(s). We had a stroll downtown poked our heads into the Hotel Congress, where John Dillinger hid out once upon a time, and more importantly where I used to drink $1.50 Cuba Libres and dance to Cuban music all night.

Then we met up with my old friend Kristen from New College, who I hadn’t seen in probably 11 years. It was great to catch up over a Café Poca Cosa lunch and a pineapple and basil juice.

We headed to the Saguaro National Park to see the Sonoran Desert cactuses.

 

After that, we headed to the aircraft graveyard. This is where the US Government keeps planes that are not in use, because the desert air is so good at keeping them perfectly preserved. They can just be dusted off when they are needed again, and fired back up for use.

Ah, Tucson. I do love that town.