We float over the Anza-Borrego Desert badlands in the Toyota listening to a California English disc jockey…he plays a haunting song by P.J. Harvey…she whispers:
Big fish, little fish
Swimming in the water
Come back here
And bring me my daughter
We’re not in Kansas anymore…
We pull into Borrego Springs and buy Australian Boomey Shiraz wine and a new supply of JB Weld Epoxy.
The local restaurant has a pool table. Three young men are playing eight-ball. They look Mexican…They play the touch screen juke box…Pink Floyd…Santana…Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen,…The Rolling Stones, “I can’t get no satisfaction”
I suddenly realize they are probably more authentic Americans then me, with probably 10 or 20 generations behind them to my three…
Apparently the desert here blooms with spectacular flowers every two or three years in the Spring…right now its barren and dull.
We find a little resort with tennis courts. For $10 we can play all day. Gordon is the proprietor. He says Borrego Springs is as old as Palm Springs, but it never really took off…
I lose again 6-1. 6-2…
