River run, I-10 to Blythe. Who lives in Blythe? The question isn't who, it's why. Not a bad place, just not mainstream. Now, a freeway rest stop. Gas up, water, head north along the Colorado to Parker. Fields of green crops dot the landscape accepting searing sunlight and blistering heat, water from the river to keep things lush. They are. Trailer havens cluster along the river banks; Ranchos Not So Grandes, the best name I found. Vidal junction, not like any other. Two highways, barely a truck stop, the cafe closed for almost a year now. Economic bad times? Maybe. More like these are the way things are in Vidal. Slow moving.
Move on, cross the river, enter Arizona and the Parker Strip. Ahhh...
The north side of the river hosts a few trailer villages, boat houses, semi-retirement or worse on the semi-quiet no-way-out drive skirting the Colorado. It's the one-way street, the slow lane, 'don't bother me I'm out of the way, out of sight' folks that mean, well. . .they just mean well.
Across the water it's condos and upscale, as up-scale as the river gets. Not much, it turns out. The river drive runs along the east side of the river along campgrounds and winter retreats, and, as it turns out, some river bars that are too loose with their cooking temperatures. As in undercooked food; as in, get your money back, get your water back, along with a shot to go to kill the bacteria and hope I get to where I'm going and stay alive. That kind of undercooked.
I live. I drive, I arrive in Laughlin via Bullhead City. Joe's Crab Shack has good ale, good service, and cooked food. The moron from Boron is nowhere to be seen. It's been a year since I've been here, so I don't really expect to see him.
Tomorrow, checking out the Shangri La. Furnished rooms by the month. Let's make a deal.