The Good, The Bad and the Stinking

Flagstaff, Arizona

The Good:
Arizona is a little like Puerto Rico. They don't observe daylight savings time, so right now our clocks are the same as Pacific daylight time. In the winter they are in sync with New Mexico. The high here at altitude will be in the seventies. The evenings will drop to the low forties.


Our RV park is called "Black Bart's". They have a great steakhouse. We can do day trips to the big meteor crater, stand on a corner in Winslow, Arizona or visit the Grand Canyon for a hiking trip. The mountains are nearby.

Yesterday we went to Glenwood, New Mexico and hiked up a canyon where gold, silver, copper andxicozinc were extracted from about 1869 to 1913. I'm not very pleased with the pictures. The good news is that the new Z-coil shoes allowed me to hike with minimal heel pain.

The Bad:
Our van air-conditioner died on the 350 mile trip across the Arizona desert today. That one runs off the Ford V-10 engine. We turned on the RV 50 amp generator and the two RV air-conditioners, but the cool never reached the driver's seat. We're heading to Death Valley and plus 140 temperatures, so I need to fix it or get it fixed.



We encountered very high, gusty winds on the last 200 miles into Flagstaff. In addition to white-knuckle buffeting which made it difficult to stay in my lane, one of the awnings started to flap and bang badly. The combination of uncomfortable heat, banging noises, mechanical failures and a sense of highway danger became even more ugly when we encountered a sandstorm crossing the desert that severely reduced visibility. Once I was impolite to Mrs. Phred. I blame it on heat and stress and hope to be a better spouse in the future.

I think I can move a picnic table near to the RV and adjust the flapping awning. I'm not sure it would be a problem except in high and gusty winds.

The Stinking:
To top off a great day, I just stepped in a great pile of fresh, stinky dog poo and tracked it all over the RV. The dogs are not at fault. It's the redneck, ignorant, stupid, trashy, inconsiderate $%&*#@ owners....GRRRAGH!.

Freemasons and Anti-Masons

Silver City, New Mexico

We came to Silver City because Mrs. Phred wanted to see Karen, one of her online friends. Silver City was established in the 1870s as a silver boom town. Geronimo was still raiding the area, hiding out in the Gila wilderness.

Karen takes us to see a Catholic cemetery in the high desert near Silver City. The graves are brightly decorated with flowers, toys, marbles, beads, wind chimes and other offerings. Most of the names are Hispanic, but there are a names like McDonald mixed in.

There is another cemetery just over the highway. It is comparatively gray and somber. The gates are closed but I see that it is a Masonic cemetery.

Curious, I try to find out about the Freemasons. The Wiki page says that there are two groups of Masons and each group refers to the other as "irregular". A man named William Morgan threatened to expose the Mason's secret rituals in Batavia, New York in 1826. He was thrown in debtors prison after a number of Masons claimed that he owed them money. Eventually, several men, reportedly Masons, bonded him out, and, some claim, drowned him in the Niagara River. This kicked of an anti-Mason movement in the US which included the formation of an anti-Mason political party that ran a candidate for President. The Wiki debate about all this seems heated and acrimonious.

The local Silver City Masons say that they do have secrets, but that mostly they are just a society (men only, thank you) who like to do good work and sometimes play "Texas Hold-Em" and have bar-b-ques..

The Nazis killed about 200,000 Masons. They had to wear an inverted red triangle in the concentration camps. Saddam Hussein also didn't like Masons and had a death penalty for any he could find. At times, the Catholic Church has also taken a strong stand against Masons. A new Masonic Lodge was established in Iraq in 2006.

At the end of my research, I know about as little about Masons as when I began. Some of their secrets are said to include handshakes and other secret recognition signals.

There is a loop up though the Gila Wilderness to the Gila Cliff Dwellers National Monument. It's a scenic byway called "The Trail of the Mountain Spirits". Maybe we'll do that today and move on tomorrow.

Requiem For General Motors

Silver City, New Mexico

I'm old enough to have owned and loved dozens of cars and motorcycles. I never minded the government regulating firearms, but they have completely ruined the American automobile and that does bother me. It used to be that you could commune with your car and tune it to run properly. Now you lift the hood and see incomprehensible spaghetti. The search for gas mileage, safety and emissions control has killed the muscle car. Now your car nags you like a nanny if you fail to buckle your seat belt.

GM entered bankruptcy yesterday. For too many years accountants, rather than poets or artists, have been in charge of product design at GM. There was a day in 1968 when you could buy a Pontiac GTO convertible with 370 horsepower and a three speed Hurst floor shift for $3,000. Those days are gone, like GM, forever. My first car was a 1950 ford sedan, with a straight-six flathead engine that I bought for $50. It took a Saturday bagging groceries to accumulate the money to buy it.

My second car was a 1955 Ford Fairlaine with a 273 cubic inch overhead cam V-8. I painted it white, had 120 louvers punched in the hood, installed 12 inch drag slicks, new naugahyde seat covers and had local racing legend, Don Garlits, chop the front coils to produce a sexy "rake". I replaced the spark plugs and points myself and installed clear neoprene spark plug wires. I still love this car, but I ran it off a bridge and ended up 12 feet underwater at 3 AM.

n 1966, after Officers Training School, I bought a green Triumph TR4-A. It was a cool little car with a four banger that would do 80 on the interstate at 4,000 RPM. One night I went drinking with a Navigator School buddy. I thought I was too drunk to drive so I gave him the keys. As we approached a curve in California, I called out a warning but he turned the convertible over on both of us. We folded into a very small area and worried about a gas fire. Eventually the soft voices of Mexican farm workers approached and released us from our prison.

Mrs Phred and I bought this 62 Cadillac in 1966.

I loved the 1972 Chrysler station wagon that we bought just before the 1974 gas crisis. It qualifies to be called a "boat" It had two air-conditioners and a number of other amenities.


Possibly my all time favorite was a 1968 Pontiac GTO convertible. I bought it in 1976 for $175 from a biology professor who was moving. After replacing the points and plugs it actually developed 370 rated horspower and burned no oil. The exhilaration of dropping the 3-speed Hurst transmission down to second gear at night and passing like an F-16 on a two-lane road with the top down cannot be conveyed. I'm really bummed that GM is axing Pontiac.

I had fun with this 1973 Cadillac Fleetwood Sedan. Big Engine, total living room couch comfort. Many options. There was a time when everyone aspired to a Cadillac and no one had heard of Mercedes, BMWs or Jap rice-burners like Acura.

Then there was Mrs. Phred's 1977 MGB. This thing burned out starters, wiring harnesses, alternators and other electronics like popcorn. We sold it to a friend after the repair bills exceeded the purchase price. Still, it was fun to drive when we could get it to run. Our friend still owns this one.


The last car that I really loved was a 1985 Ford Mustang convertible. It had a very capable 5 liter V-8 with a five-speed and was capable of 146 MPH in forth gear. Top end dropped to 135 in 5th due to torque issues. You really didn't want to punch this one in third gear on a wet highway.


In 1988 we bought an Oldsmobile Toranado Trofeo. It was maybe our best car ever. Sleek, heavy. powerful with a dashboard full of computer gadgets to comuute mileage, range. temperature. We cruised one night from Atlanta to Tampa during a total eclipse of the moon.

The last car that we liked a little was a 96 Chrysler Sebring convertible.It had nice styling. We paid $22,000 cash. This year Chrysler is giving them away for $12,000.



We drive a 3 year old Toyota Corolla now. It's reliable and gets 40 MPG...I wish it were a Pontiac GTO...

A Visit to a War Zone

Juarez, Mexico

I pick up my Z-Coils in El Paso. They feel strange, like my heel is sinking into a soft inch-thick cushion with every step. The pain fades quickly. Encouraged, we decide to trek across the long pedestrian bridge into Juarez.


There are no other Gringos. None. Nada. Zip. We speculate that either drug violence or the swine flu has killed tourism entirely.


We pick a restaurant for margaritas and tacos. They are playing American 60s rock. We suspect its for us, the only customers. As we dine alone, a series of street vendors enter the restaurant trying to sell us music, wallets, belts, compasses, watches and CDs. I buy a wallet.



We see convoys of black jeeps in the streets. The soldiers are dressed in black with automatic weapons at the ready. They wear flak jackets. It looks like New Orleans just after Katrina. Everywhere are the young soldiers guarding intersections. I find this article in the Miami Herald.

Crossing south on the right side of the bridges is lonely, with only a smattering of people, mostly Mexicans living in El Paso. The army base has banned soldiers from crossing, and few if any kids come looking for a good time -- most of the bars have closed anyway.The reason: Juárez is at war. The city is fighting drug cartels, and the cartels are fighting each other.In 2008, more than 1,600 people were killed in Juárez in drug-related violence, often assassinations carried out in daylight.

n an effort to stem the violence spinning out of control, the Mexican Army deployed about 2,500 soldiers in Juárez last spring. Another 5,000 soldiers were deployed last month to take charge of the police department.

I thought I got a deal on two cartons of cigarettes, but the Texas Department of revenue is waiting as we cross the bridge to get $30 in Texas tax. It's about breakeven after this surprise.


It's a shame what we've done to this poor country by providing a vast market for illegal drugs and a supermarket for smuggled firearms. We stole Texas, California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado from Mexico. Maybe we could give California back?

The Long Arm of Gibraltar

Las Cruces, New Mexico

Last month we were walking the Rock of Gibraltar. I was wearing a poorly deigned but stylish pair of loafers. We walked a LOT further than I had expected up and down the mountain and the heel pain caused by something called Plantar Facilitits flared up again in a moderate way. Then I fell off an elevated sidewalk onto some broken concrete and damaged my camera which died three days ago of its wounds.


Yesterday morning we hit the courts for tennis. I was only trailing by 4-3 when I heard and felt something rip in my heel while going after a tough return. The pain was enough to bring out a sweat. The same thing happened last June and it took about three months to get the pain down enough to play tennis again.


What we mainly do is hike, play tennis, read and cook. We skipped the planned airshow with the Thunderbirds and I spent the day alone resting my foot and reading a trashy Stepanie Plum novel called "Twelve Sharp". Mrs. Phred called in the afternoon to tell me that she was lost somewhere in Las Cruces and that the GPS was broken. I directed her attention to the map of Las Cruces I had left on the back seat and wished her luck.

Today we ride into El Paso to buy the special Z-Coil spring shoes that may hasten my recovery and maybe another GPS. The shoes aren't designed for sports that require lateral foot movement, like tennis.


With extra time on my hands I investigate the PhD programs offered here by the University of New Mexico. One interesting program is Astronomy. I also find a job for a CPA, but it's 50 miles away in El Paso. This would be a bad time to take a job from someone who needs one.