California – Where Our Legal Marriage Began
This wasn’t the easiest picture to get. Yesterday afternoon we drove into California and, not finding a welcome sign at which to document our entry, back to Yuma, Arizona.
“You’re in California. Nobody cares.” I said.
When we drove back across the one-lane bridge, there was no sign saying we were welcome in Arizona, either. We took a different road, and there was this sign. But no shoulder to pull off onto. So we turned around again and parked the entire rig right next to the I-10 on-ramp. We put on the hazards and made our way across the four-lane road to get to the sign.
This was the last time we’d be entering a state in which we were married–it was important.
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Marriage (and Other LGBT) Rights in Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas
I’m probably not telling you anything, but Texas is one big state. It took us three long days of driving to get through it.
We spent last night in Deming, New Mexico, after driving through El Paso alongside the blazing Mexican sunset. We passed through a Border Patrol checkpoint somewhere near Las Cruces, which was something of a shock. It stood, as imposing and impervious as the international border between Washington and Canada, but it was well into New Mexico–we never even entered Juarez. They waved us through, and we drove past their something-sniffing dogs. Were they hoping to catch people with those dogs, or what?
Catching up on some states we missed–there are a lot we didn’t document. Here are three.
Read moreA Little Help from Our Friends
We may not have mentioned this, but we’ve been doing this trip on a shoestring. Not to abuse the metaphor, but if you were using this string of ours to tie your shoe, you’d definitely think to yourself at this point, “Wow, I really need new shoelaces.”
You may notice that we’ve put a donate button on the sidebar to your right. If you choose to donate, you’ll be taken to a secure PayPal site. We wish we didn’t have to ask, but here we are–in Texas, far far from home. It was supposed to all work out–if barely–but things happen, sometimes all at once.
Read moreMarriage (and Other LGBT) Equality in Vermont
I know it makes people in New England cringe, but there’s a dream popular among New Yorkers of moving to the country and buying a farm in Vermont. I think Vermont is chosen as a setting for that dream because it’s rural, beautiful, and the people have a reputation for being liberal. Even though I am from the Northeast originally, before this trip, Vermont was one of the six states I’d never been to. (I’m down to three: Wisconsin, Nebraska, and Alaska.)
I was sad the weather didn’t accommodate a longer visit to Vermont. I really wanted to get to Burlington. I just knew I’d love it. It wasn’t to be, however. As we mentioned in a previous post, the RV parks in northern Vermont had their water shut off during the time of our visit. It was also threatening to snow. So we headed south to Massachusetts–where it actually did snow.
Read moreTrailer Life, Volume IV
Boondocking. Also known as dry camping. That means you’re not hooked up to water and/or electric. You’re using your batteries to run your lights and you’re drinking the water stored in your tank. Some people, like the ones who frequent freecampgrounds.com, spend a great deal of their RV lives boondocking.
[Aside: Etymologically, boondocks is one of the few English words I know of to come from Tagalog: bundok, or mountain. (If you're curious, some others are yo-yo and cooties.) American soldiers occupying the Philippines misused it to mean a remote, wild place. If you were in one of those places, I guess you would have to boondock your RV.]
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