I'm back in Tucson, just in time for the big October warmup. Fall weather here is unpredictable. Eventually it will cool off. Then the days will be lovely, and the nights will be freezing. When you live in a car, weather matters. It's kind of all you think about. Today was about 80°F, hot in the sun and nice in the shade, which is why I'm back at my office, the underground parking at the mall.
I don't care about the little town. I hear it's packed with sweltering Tusconians. I don't mind that they might stink with sweat. I just don't like hobnobbing with the hoi polloi, or anyone else. No, what I care about is a safe, cool place to park overnight. I have heard there might be dispersed camping up there. It's national forest land, which means technically you can park up there for free for either seven days or fourteen days, if it's not designated as private land. I'm a little nervous. I have a feeling it's going to be another one of those dirt/gravel road situations: steep grind in and hell skid out, with no place to turn around, and woe to me if it starts raining. I'm sort of over off-roading in a minivan. Really. There ought to be some sort of law.
Speaking of voting, I mailed my ballot yesterday. I was going to drop it off at a library in Oro Valley. I mapped to the place and found out the dropbox won't be deployed until tomorrow. Rather than sit on the ballot another two days and then drive 45 minutes to any dropbox in the city, I put it in an actual mailbox at an actual post office. Fingers crossed.
Speaking of WTF, the head med is not working well anymore. Ever since that low pressure front moved into Prescott (that was last Monday), my head has been back to non-normal, meaning the washing machine and the typewriter are at it again, chipping away at my serenity. Needless to say, I'm going to give that neurologist a good talking-to. Stay tuned.
Oh, lord. Time out. Someone has cranked up Billie Eilish on their car stereo. In this underground parking lot, the song bounces off the concrete, creating a wall of cacophony. I can feel the bass in my gut. There ought to be a law against this, too. Well, I can hardly complain. It's probably another nomad seeking respite from the sun. No. Spoke too soon. Just two young women, enjoying their favorite song before they lock up their cute shiny car with heavily tinted windows and go shopping for cute shiny handbags at Dillards. With so much room in this underground space, I don't see why other drivers have to park right next to me. There ought to be a law. Remember the six-foot rule?
Speaking of the six-foot rule, yesterday I was at a park and saw the beat-up camper rig of a nomad couple I used to see regularly last spring. They have signs all over their camper and truck: No trespassing, smile you are on camera, and practice social distancing, keep a six-foot distance at all times. I was sad to see that summer had not been good to their camper. The trailer part extending over the cab slanted askew at a new and terrifying angle. It looked like they had strapped it together with one of those cargo strap things.
I wanted to ask them where they park overnight here in Tucson. I haven't seen them at Walmart. As I was gearing up my courage, a young man rode his bike along the bike path and stopped next to the camper. He apparently took a substance of some kind. Within minutes he was sacked out boneless in the dirt. The woman in the camper got out of the cab and shook his shoulder a few times and then got back in her truck. I guess she thought he was okay. I kept waiting for EMTs to show up, but they hadn't appeared by the time I left to find my parking spot for the night.
This morning I was at the park again, making coffee and waiting for the farmer's market to open. The kid's body was gone. Around 10:00 a.m., the camper pulled up and parked in the shade.
