Why Does the Road Curve in the Desert?: RVing in Retirement

Traveling, visiting landmarks and eating cuisine of new regions ignites my senses. However, getting to the destination tests my patience. During the hours of driving, my interest wanes requiring me to get creative. First up is the alphabet game. Once each letter has been spotted on road signs, I begin to find a license plate from every state in the union. Then I torment my husband by exclaiming, “I spy!” and describing some obscure item. He plays along until we both lose interest and move onto other stimulating games like listing animals whose names start with every letter of the alphabet.

Observing scenery out the window holds my attention — for awhile, but by the third day, the uniqueness of the trees morphs into evergreens without any distinguishable differences. Spotting the ducks, dragons, and dinosaurs floating in the clouds kills time and even though I’ve discovered by squinting, the shapes change and grow, they still begin to resembled blobs of modern art with time.

So, I write

Recently, I’ve started a game of questioning my surroundings and discovered not only a means to pass time but writing prompts that spark inspiration. With a journal in hand, questions are recorded and accompanied by random musings.

Why do roads in the desert curve?

Traveling through the desert with hundreds of acres spread before us, the terrain changes little except for a random Joshua tree, an occasional tower of sagebrush caught in a fence post, and tall cacti whose silhouettes, from a distance, resemble people with arms extended pointing to nowhere. As we weave right to avoid a shadow and then curve around a rock small enough to be moved by a medium sized backhoe, I wondered, “Why does the road curve?”

Somebody could probably provide a rationale, but that would stifle creativity. The easiest explanation probably involves alcohol, the most complex an ancient Indian burial ground, the most scientific requires a working understanding of water runoff and erosion. I run through possibilities as the stories evolve.

How did that street name evolve?

Street names lead my mind in directions that sometimes scare me. Typically a writer of wholesome life experiences, the names Chicken Dinner and Frozen Dog Road seem like perfect titles for full length western movies starring Kevin Costner. I have plots outlined in my mind.

The adventure series begins with a family migrating in the spring over the Seven Devils Mountain Range. Captivated by the stunning vistas and futile soil of the flatland, visions of a homestead prompt them to put down roots. Each spring their decision is celebrated by a home cooked chicken dinner. The second story of the series testifies to the group’s determination when the storm of 1910 paralyzes the town and Kevin loses his beloved dog to the icy winds.

What were they thinking when they made that sign?

The road sign Green Peter Dam activates inappropriate ideas and images. I found myself playing with the punctuation and spelling to create a title for a masterpiece.

Damn, His Peter is Green

When a Peter is Green, The Dam is Blocked.

Peter Turned Green with Envy.

Confessions of a Day on Green Peter Dam.

Green Peter! Green Peter! Green Peter! Damn!

Damn! What the Hell is a Green Peter?

Where have I seen that image before?

To preserve memories, I snap pictures from the car window. Often, an image sparks my imagination. This one flashed me back to an underwater scene from The Little Mermaid when Ursula, the sea witch, fed her prisoners, former Merpeople, dead fish. These polyps prompt a story that revolves around their new existence under the ocean.

My imagination goes on overtime as I think about the canyon where this picture is taken becoming submerged by flood waters. These bodies of shriveled Merpeople return to life with the rehydrating surge.

“I sat there with Sally. We sat there, we two. And I said, “How I wish we had something to do!” — Dr. Seuss

Who doesn’t remember Thing One and Thing Two from The Cat in the Hat? Notice the resemblance? This picture stimulates ideas of a new twist on an old story. Think of the trouble they could conjure up if they uproot themselves and explore their domain.

I turned to my friend and barked out a request. It time we uproot our bodies and go on a quest.

She reached out a limb and with her stem gave a thumbs up. Together we’d cut loose leaving behind just a stump.

It may have been the wind but I believe her leaves winked. We’ll leaf when the sprinklers shut off; I need a drink.

Ultimately, questions stretch my mind muscles, memories are recorded through words, and my husband is released from entertaining me with word games. I have learned to never think of free time as boring moments but instead as opportunities.

How do you pass the time when traveling. I would love to hear.

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RVing in Retirement