The Two-Car Shuffle

I've lost track of days. They jumble together into a whirlwind.

It's Sunday morning. The cold air blows into the RV when I let Buena outside. Waiting for Frank to show up with the minivan, I review my plan. He's on his way to the north rim of the canyon with the minivan. From there, I'll take him back to Havasu and return to the job by the end of the week to do training and prep for opening day. This is classic Two-Car Shuffle.

While I wait, I think about the last two days at the lodge. I've been parked in a prime location Friday and Saturday night. From the front of the RV, I can make a weak connection with the Starlink satellite and make calls. Despite the online services and telephone being slow or fading out, at least I'm connected. I don't have to walk down to the lodge in the biting wind to make final preparations for the class that begins on Monday.

The new boss stopped by last night to meet me, introduce me to two other workers, and let me know that the electric and water had been turned on. He wants me to move to the employee campground on the side of the hill. I'm supposed to do this before leaving with Frank.

I'm ready to go. As soon as Frank gets here, I'll load a week's worth of camping gear into the minivan. The plan is to mosey around Utah for five days while waiting for Buena's vet visit on Friday. I won't be starting the job here until the 13th, so there's no sense in waiting here.

Buena scratches to be let back inside.

I let her in, and she watches me as I bundle up, step outside the RV, and look for BossMan's main guy: Francisco. He's supposed to show me which spot is mine.

I go over to the new construction going up, two new cabins with new logs that glow yellow beneath the bright red metal roofing. Francisco sees me and hurries over.

"Hi," I call across a lumber pile, my voice raised above the hammering coming through the open door. "BossMan wants me to move. Where's my spot?"

"Let's go," he says, pointing to the hill behind the cabins. He leads me up the hill beneath a canopy of narrow pines. The gravel crunches beneath our boots, while I avoid puddles from melting snow.

"You'll have to pull in between these two trees," he says, gesturing at two mid- sized Aspen trees. Last year's leaves carpet the damp earth a moist brown.

The lot itself is muddy, uneven, and rutted. On either side of my space is a shack. The one facing my lot looks worn down, like it had seen too many winters on the mountain. Curiously, the front door swings open and shut, back and forth, with each gust of wind.

I look around.

"What is that?!" I demand, pointing to a metal talisman on the ground. The pentagram and assorted metal are worn and rusted. "What is that?" I repeat, looking at Francisco.

He looks at me and says nothing.

Spying a clean piece of scrap wood in the dirt, I grab one end of the small board. With the other end, I scoop the talisman so that it hooks on the edge. I don't want to touch it, so I lift it, carrying it toward the brush on the other side of the road. Rather forcefully, I say, "We're getting rid of that thing in Jesus' name!"

We walk down the hill. I do not want to be here. But...what to do? I need a job...an income stream...by mid-May to carry me through the first half of summer. I'm only teaching one online class this term, so money is already tight.

When Frank shows up, I load the minivan.

He smokes a cigarette and looks at the buildings and the hill. "Pyra, it's cold up here! Look! There's snow on the ground." He gestures across the yard. "Yesterday...in Havasu...it was 101! I'd rather have Havasu than this."

I feel the same way, but it's too late to change course now. I can't stay in an unconditioned RV in that heat.

With Frank and Buena in the minivan. I hop in the Godspeed and move it up the hill. The space through the two aspen trees requires a little bit of maneuvering, and I hear something scrape the roof. I park it, put up the curtains, double-check the door locks, and walk down the hill. By the time I reach the minivan, I feel winded and dizzy.

"That's because we're at elevation," Frank says. "The air is thinner up here. That's why it's colder, too. I saw a sign that said 8800 feet!"

We pull out of the campground around ten-thirty. I drive. Frank had been on the road since 3:30. Now, it's my turn.

We stop in Flagstaff and get pinions (pine nuts) from the Natural Grocer.

West of Kingman, Frank falls asleep. While he sleeps, I think about what is most important in life. Family is important. Jobs are a dime a dozen. If all you have is a pulse, most low-wage places will hire you. But...ever since seeing the Grand Canyon at 18, I've wanted to work here. This is an excellent opportunity. Why am I thinking of ways to get out of it?

Frank shifts in his seat. He's awake. "Hey, Pyra, doesn't Buena have to go outside?"

"We've only got forty more miles. I think she'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, I gotta smoke a cigarette."

"Oh! Why didn't you say so? I'll pull over at the next road."

While Frank smokes, I walk Buena around some rocks and sand. And...

I found a really cool rock! The clear material illuminates with the light from the sun.

Back on the road, I say, "Hey, so I've got an idea. I don't have it all the way thought through. Here goes... I don't want to stay at the north rim. If I could make a second Two-Car Shuffle work, then I won't stay at the camp job."

"What will you tell 'em?" he asks.

"Tell 'em the truth. The altitude is affecting me. I even said that to the BossMan's daughter yesterday. And last night... I woke up at one point feeling like I couldn't breathe. I don't want to live and work at that elevation. I want to go back and see my family."

"Good for you! God will work it all out."

A plan forms in my mind. I'd need to enlist my Escalante friend to help move vehicles. If I drive up to Escalante, and he drives me to the canyon...it just might work.

Later that night, on my way to El Parisio -- ¡ Hola ! Cinco de Mayo! -- I call Will.

"Hey, I need a favor," I say cautiously. He always has a lot going on with moving and shutting off water. He moves around the lawns he cares for with a timed-precision, so I knew that I had a 50/50 chance. "So....what are you doing on Wednesday? Could you drive me down...in my minivan...to the north rim?"

"How long of a drive is it?"

"Just past Kanab... Freedonia, and then 24 miles to Jacob Lake. The campground is a little past that."

"Would I be back before three? I have to move Barclay's lines and shut the water off at the Peterson place."

"If we leave early, you'll be back in time probably by two or three."

"Sure!"

"Really???"

"Yeah, I just need you to help me move a car. It's over at Bicknell. I need a ride."

The Two-Car Shuffle.

I stay the night at Brenda's in Lake Havasu City, but I don't stay long the next morning. I say farewell to Brenda and Merry...and give goodbye pats to all the diggity dogs who live there.

Then, I start north, but

I

take

my

time.

Today is Monday, and I have 48 hours to be in Escalante. A new school term had also started at precisely 12:01 a.m., so I'll need to build computer-time into my schedule.

As I pull off the London Bridge Road and onto 95, I think about my soon-to-be teaching job here and also my time at Herb's Herbs. My friends. The water. I whisper, "I'm gonna love living in this town."

I surprised myself that I whispered that...aloud. It felt like a scene in a movie, so I know it would end up in the book...or the blog. And here it is.

Onward!

Pushing north toward the interstate, the warm air rushes through the open windows. The monolithic gatekeepers, two large rock formations on either side of the highway rise up in the windshield before fading into the rearview mirror.

The only way to properly head north is past Topock and Catfish Paradise. The desert way. Old Route 66. Get yer kicks!

At Hootches, I decide whether to go the retail way toward Bullhead City or stay on the desert road up to the boundary cone. With a little under 40 hours left from an 8-hour drive, I decide to go the long way...up to Boundary Cone.

Then I ride the two-and-a-half miles into Oatman just to say goodbye to the donkeys and pick up the cute hippie skirt I'd seen when I visited back in February.

That was my one purchase. The rest of the way will be grocery store eating, I tell myself.

Down through Laughlin, up through Searchlight, and on to Boulder City where I stop to do school work for almost an hour. It's the first day of class, so the flurry of activity is slow getting started.

In the late afternoon, I ride up the Lake Mead Parkway and through the little farm community of Overton, remembering how just last week I rode through this way sweating bullets in the RV. What a change a week...and a vehicle...makes! With the RV, I watch the speed to keep engine temps cool; in the minivan, I watch the speed to make sure I don't get pulled over! It rides close to the ground and has very comfortable handling.

I stop for the night in the Joshua Tree forest. This is the same place I stayed for a few days in the RV. The Joshua Trees look like something from Dr. Seuss's imagination with their twisting trunks and branches, the tops of which are punctuated with a cluster of spikey leaves like pompoms.

The night is cold in the back of the minivan, despite the several layers of blankets underneath and the thermal sleeping bag. Waking several times, I keep an eye out the window to look for those meteor showers that are supposed to be happening, but I don't see anything. I pull Buena closer.

In the morning, my left femur hurts. Did the cold penetrate my bones, or did I sleep on it funny? I contemplate that question as I move around to work out the pain...or the cold.

As I leave the Joshua Trees, I let Buena run on the roadway to get some exercise. After she's run about a half mile, I open the door and tell her to "Load up!"

St. George, Cedar City, and up and over 14 to get to the backcountry. The rocky, sandy cliffs and peaks form other worldly shapes near Bryce. I think back to that time I was 18 and my dad sent me to the Grand Canyon...the north rim!...as a birthday present. At eighteen, I sat among the tourists on the great stonework deck and stared across the canyon. A youngish middle-aged man told me that if I enjoyed it here, I should check out Bryce. "It's actually better than the Grand Canyon," he said most assuredly. And now, here I am...some 30 years later...having lived here and again traveling through it. And I have to agree.

Pretty soon, I make it to Will's place. We go over the plans. Then, my friend Bud and I meet at the pub to discuss current events, politics, writing, and life. As we talk, I look at the other patrons, tourists, and think about how they are probably here to escape the very things we're discussing: the politicized court cases against Trump, the left-wing protests at colleges, and the general state of inflation. By the end of the evening, I'm still not sure if I answered Bud's question: What brings you into town?

Wednesday morning...and we ride for a little over three hours to get to where the RV is parked. Will takes off, and I look around for Francisco, BossMan, or anyone. Not seeing anyone, I resolve to send BossMan a text from Freedonia: So sorry. Elevation got to me. I can't work there anymore. All the best!

But I'm not to Freedonia yet. Instead....

I'm just west of Jacob Lake and coming off the plateau, and...my phone rings. Caller ID shows the BossMan's name. Oh boy! Here we go!

"Hey, Pyra! You left?"

I explain the elevation thing.

"How about if you work at our south rim location?"

"South rim location?" I repeat.

He tells me he needs a worker at the south rim. The elevation is only around 6000-feet. The pay is good.

"I was hoping to go see my daughters in Missouri this summer. When I changed my plans..."

"That's okay. If we could have you work for us for a month, we'll be able to make it through this first heavy tourist season." Then he explains the rise and fall of tourist traffic.

"That parallels the Escalante tourism, which I'm used to. If you really only need me until June 15, then I can do it," I say, trusting the Lord to work things out.

By the time I reach Escalante, I determine to just leave the minivan at Will's place for a month. I'll drive the RV to the south rim, work for a month, drive back up, and then take the minivan to Missouri for a month before returning to Havasu.

And this is how the Two-Car Shuffle works. If the transmission on the Godspeed was strong enough to pull a trailered vehicle, I wouldn't have so much excitement in my life.