the card is going to work

I tested out Gig car last weekend. It's a pay-by-the-minute car share service with the option of pre-paying for a day-long rental. To go out of area you need not just their app but also a card to lock and unlock the vehicle, so I ordered a card back in June, waited 6 weeks for it to arrive, and finally ventured out of town last week.

The pluses: the day-long rental is about $100 for a hybrid, including gas and insurance, which is $40 to $80 less than Zipcar and probably $100 to $200 cheaper than traditional rentals, if you can even get one in the summer for only a day.

Minuses: the car locks itself after 2 minutes of being turned off, so if you get on a car ferry like I did, you have to unlock the ignition just before leaving the ferry, which causes some panic as you can't idle on a ferry and it's sometimes hard to tell when it's your turn to go. I tried using the card to unlock the car on the ferry and the car got confused because I was still in the Gig service area so I had to back out and use the app.

The scariest moment was when I arrived at my destination way out on the coast and saw I had no cell phone service, and realized if the card wouldn't unlock the car when it was time to go, I was stranded a mile off the main highway with a car that was basically bricked. I positioned the car so it could be pushed in neutral down the hill *just in case!* and it caused me some angst that night, as I did outdoor work and toasted cheddar bread on a fire and drank cider and tried to sleep but mostly imagined all the horrible scenarios of not being able to unlock the car. I made myself repeat mentally: the card will work, and finally slept.

The card worked perfectly by the way. Got in, loaded up the car and drove away, shaking with relief.

no fish no residential trash

I took this picture in New Mexico at Elephant Butte Lake State Park a few weeks ago. I visited reluctantly, not in the mood for a hike but knowing I needed to get some exercise. Well it’s weirdly gorgeous, like most of NM. The lake seems human-made and is ringed by what seem to be permanent campers (we saw more than one person hanging out their drawers to dry). The “beach” was rocky and windy but a pleasant walk. A loose dog nipped my leg so we cut our walk short and headed back to the car, passing these trash containers on our way. 

I can’t imagine pulling fish out of the grubby water there, much less trying to eat it. And if someone has to tell you not to throw fish guts in the trash, well then I really just don’t know.

T or C

Friends pointed me to Truth or Consequences, on my recent road trip through the Southwest. There are mineral hot springs, they said. It's not fancy but the brewery is wonderful and there's lots to see.
They weren't wrong about the "not fancy," but I found an Airbnb with a private mineral tub in the backyard (along with a random assortment of rusty patio furniture and at least one tarp). A 2.5 day stay was about 1.5 days too long. The brewery's lager had an odd sour note (from the mineral water? I still wonder) and the clientele was 90% extremely hairy biker types and one lone preppy dude on an Airpod phone call.
And yet. The Rio Grande flows in a beautiful bend at the edge of town and there is tons of colorful public art.
We skipped the Geronimo museum and its determinedly white gaze but enjoyed the totems posted outside.
It was a complicated and yet relaxing visit. 

see ya on the flip

 

a tale of 2 visits

Last Saturday I took my shrink's advice and got out of town for the day. Two friends have been inviting me to stop by their waterfront houses and the heat and smoke in the city have been getting me down.

After some Zipcar confusion--at 6.30am the car wasn't parked in its space, but I used the "honk" feature to track it down 3 entire blocks away--and an early morning massage, a pal and I hopped the ferry to the peninsula. We won't worry about ferries or traffic, we promised ourselves.

On the Kingston side, we stopped at Borrowed Kitchen Bakery for deliciously flaky berry pastries and some cookies, and drove a few more miles to friend 1's beach cottage. We'd been texting. Come on by, they said. After proceeding down a narrow, tree-lined driveway, I parked and we got out and walked up to the house. There were two doors, so I knocked on one, then the other. Called my friend's name.We could see the water just beyond--was she on the beach? Or were we at the wrong house, and trespassing?

Finally my friend emerged and she seemed oddly nervous. After all the e-mails and texts, I felt like we were intruding. We stayed outside, did a little walking tour of the yard and down to the beach, admiring the water and trees and enjoying the cool air, then back up to the deck where an elderly dog barked vigorously. We gave her the cookies and left after less than thirty minutes, fleeing to a nearby gas station to use the bathroom, wash our hands, and hit the road.

Visit to friend 2 was later in the afternoon, on the return trip to the city. More texting, more directions, this time with a bottle of wine in hand. Another leafy drive, but this friend was waiting in front of her house when I drove up, smiling ear to ear and waving. There were hugs and exclamations--it was our first in person hangout in 16 months--and excited barking from the house: a general feeling of welcome. We got the tour of the property: yard, upstairs, downstairs, shop, greenhouse; and met the dogs, two big black eagerly-licking canines. we shared some wine, chatted and watched a spouse preparing guacamole, and left, feeling happy and welcomed.

Since last week, I haven't heard another word from friend 1. Friend 2 has been messaging all week. It reminds me of how much we need the lovers and carers. I don't have time anymore for the begrudging, the reluctant, the distant. 

white sands

One of the places I went on my trip was White Sands National Monument. I'd never heard of it (or maybe I had, vaguely, without thinking much about it). A friend drove us and his dog out there for a day trip. 40 minutes or so from Las Cruces, through the Organ Mountains, past a border patrol stop (I'm still WTF about that whole situation) and into acres and acres of cream-colored gypsum sand. You can walk on it, the dog rolled delightedly in it, you can even picnic and overnight in it. It is beautiful and eerie and sometimes Highway 70, which leads to it, is closed for nearby US military missile testing. This mysterious beauty and occasional state-sanctioned violence is a perfect microcosm of our conflicted world.