In New Mexico, people either lived in a ramshackle shanty or a modern(ish) trailer (located next to a bombed-out older model melting into the ground); in Bisbee, Arizona, you could stay in a vintage Airstream; in Apache Junction, entire neighborhoods were made up of trailers in varying states of permanence; in Lake Havasu, houses came equipped with an RV garage; in Yuma, snowbirds spend winters boondocking on the Bureau of Land Management land north of the city and the Mexican border, and in the Salton Sea area of California, you can boondock RV in Slab City or set up camp to the west and spend your days ripping around on your dune buggy or off-road motorcycle. The desert is filled with trailer towns. For many, the desert life is an RV life. This could be your life. I tell Lisa this could be our life.
Page 2 of the White Sheet — there’s a job posting. Quail Run RV Park in Quartzsite, AZ is looking for a new couple to manage the place. Salary, space, and utilities are included. But you must have an RV.
But I require internets. Page 6 has my solution — Beam Speed Wireless Internet. Broadband speeds, no phone required. $40 a month. I’m listening, White Sheet.
Page 11 sweetens the pot — a Mitsubishi Montero 4×4, tow-ready, for $2,250. Sure, it’s got some miles, but I could take it off-road. I’d blend in in Slab City. I’d be able to drive to Lake Havasu’s Desert Bar. I could run the canyon trails in Anza-Borrego.
Page 15, a 31′ Airstream Land Yacht is for sale. $2,000 and it’s mine. I could tow it with my Mitsu (if people don’t call them that, I’ll start it). I could live the Airstream dream, an aluminum-clad eden in Quartzsite, AZ.
I tell Lisa about my plan as I peruse the shotgun prices in one of the inserts. $4,250 for a new life, I tell her. It’d be sweet, I promise, but she’s not interested … yet. I think I need to set up a tour of the Airstream. It’s aluminum, I remind her. And we could have a shotgun. The pot remains unsweetened for her.