Patio Time has begun in Sun City Mesquite.
Every afternoon, Charlie and I spend some time out in the backyard under the pergola having some adult beverages, enjoying the day and the landscaping, and occasionally visiting with friends who drop by to chat.
We’ve met the most interesting people here, folks who have done a lot, seen a lot, and have earned wisdom through the School of Hard Knocks.
Last week, a girlfriend of Charlie introduced me to a fellow who she has been seeing for a month. His name is Ken, he’s a widower (his wife died of cancer), he’s retired from the mining industry (in Wyoming), and is a full-time RV’er who winters in Salome, Arizona (about 90 miles west of Phoenix).
Ken used to manage a big trona mining operation, so he’s quite handy with tools, he repairs and improves his Holiday Rambler motorhome, and also owns and maintains off-road vehicles and a truck camper unit. It so happens that his HR diesel pusher is about the same age as our Monaco Windsor, so he’s encountered many of the same RV issues over the years. I spent a half day with Ken vacuuming up knowledge from him. What a nice guy.
Yesterday, my good hiking buddy, Lloyd, introduced Charlie and I to some friends who were visiting Mesquite from the Napa Valley (in California) where Lloyd used to own a Merlot grape growing operation. His friend’s name is Curt, and he has lived a very full life, graduating from Cal Berkeley, going into the luxury home construction business, making a crapload of money, losing most of it in bankruptcy when the economy crashed, but recovering and doing well. His wife (I forgot her name!) was also a Cal Berkeley grad, was a marijuana smoking Hippie flower child in the Sixties, ended up somehow in Madrid, Spain, became a Spanish tutor, went to Mexico City in that capacity, and then helped her husband’s business thrive (they had 365 employees at one time).
We had a very nice dinner with the three of them and found out that the couple is considering moving from Napa to Mesquite. That would be cool; very nice people. And he golfs, too.
There are several single women in the area who Charlie pals around with. They occasionally have a “girls night” event where they drink and snack and tell a bunch of lies (I’m guessing!). They are all nice gals and I’m happy that Charlie can spend some quality girl time with them; it must be pretty boring listening to me all of the time.
Yesterday, I went for a ride in my neighbor Sharon’s off-road vehicle (a fancy CanAm rock climber). Sharon is a very unusual widow: she’s 79 years old, talks and acts with the energy of a 50-year-old, and is the only woman member of the local ORV club. She and the guys routinely go on trips out into the remote desert areas, leaving at 8:30 a.m. and returning at 4:30 p.m. That is a lot of sun, dirt, and noise. Those ORVs are very loud: I don’t think I could put up with the noise like they do. Sharon is lucky though: she’s almost deaf, so the engine noise is a minor problem for her. Another minor problem for her: money, I gather. She moved here from Palm Springs, has bought two ORV’s in the past 3 months, and is now talking about selling her home and moving up the street to a higher (and more expensive) location with a great view of the mountains. She is a writer who still does some classified work for NASA, according to her. So, I think she can afford it.
Later in the day, our neighbors, the Carnacellis, brought home their recently-purchased 2018 Mirada Class A motorhome. It’s a 36-footer, with a ten-cylinder Ford gas engine, and is nicely appointed. Galen, the husband, knows nothing about RV’s, so another neighbor (Al) and I have volunteered to do a short RV trip in late May to teach Galen and his wife Sherry the ropes. We may go to a “boondock” area so that Al can show both of us his wide knowledge of dry camping. I’m looking forward to that.
I picked up The Beast from Premier Truck in St. George early this morning. They replaced 5 air bags, some air line fittings, and the dessicant filter for the air ride system. I had them examine the shocks and brakes and they told me that I’m okay for now. The hour drive down I-15 in my repaired rig was quite comfortable and level; I think those mechanics up there know what they’re doing.
Later in the morning, I met my new neighbor Dale. He bought the home across the street from us that was once owned by Marcus Kline, the only guy that I know of in Mesquite that died from Covid-19. (Marcus visited Branson, Missouri during the pandemic to celebrate the life of a friend. Virtually everyone who attended the celebration caught Covid-19. It was a superspreader event, a celebration of death, as it were.)
Dale is a single guy who has a 26′ travel trailer in which he will live in the hot months, far from Mesquite, Nevada. I believe that he hails from Utah, in the Salt Lake area. Anyway, he appears to be another interesting guy who we can pump for interesting stories during Patio Time in the backyard.
It’s nice to have friends, and it’s even nicer to be able to visit with them without a mask!