Road Trip: Livingston, Texas: Part 6: Second Night Boondocking

Being reborn as a Texan, feeling a new-home-base glow, I headed westward again. Knowing I will come back east only a few months from now.

I spent my second night at an I-10 rest area, again in Texas, this time at the one that lies between Comfort and Kerrville.

It confounds me that evidently I took nary a photo of the place.


I learned some new things about rest-area boondocking with this second go.

Yes, try to arrive earlier in the evening than I did, particularly on a Monday following Thanksgiving.

I rolled into the rest area around 5:30, I believe. Already there were RVs and vans in occupation for the night. Some trucks, too. I had very limited parking choices.

At this rest area, it is parallel parking only. When I first docked, I chose a spot that was parallel to the women's side of the restrooms. My slot was just behind a red zone, so there would be no vehicles directly in front of me, but there were slots in the spaces behind me. I quickly discovered that this meant I had regular and frequent headlights shining directly into the back of my vehicle.

I looked for a less-trafficked spot. In front of the accessible parking, there was a van, and immediately in front of that, a camper. And then that was the end of free spaces at the front of the car-parking line. I walked over to see how much space existed between the van and the accessible spot. .... Just enough. Just enough for me to scooch my Prius in there. Which I did.

Having learned my lesson from the first rest area car-sleeping, I pulled out my clothes for the next day and placed them in a red bag with my toiletry bag.

Although the temps dipped into the 30s that night, I felt cozy. I slept very well. If there were 18-wheeler truck sounds in the night, I must have quickly become inured to them.

Based on my two experiences sleeping at a rest area, I feel good about doing it in the future.

Road Trip: Livingston, Texas: Part 2: Becoming a Texan

Teeny RV at Good Golly Miss Molly's in Livingston, Texas. November 2019.

• Destination: Livingston, Texas
• Mission A: Become a Texan
• Mission B: More field testing of Chez Prius (and me), which will prepare me for a hoped-for road trip to Alaska in summer 2020

On home bases

A nomad needs a home base.

The usual custom, I think, is for a nomad to maintain their home base in the state where they lived when they began their new, portable life. This makes sense. There's already a history there for mail, banking, taxes, vehicle registration, driver's licenses, health insurance, vehicle insurance, etc.

Over time, though, as one's spiderweb gets stretched ever so more thinly from its center, there comes a point when a nomad stops spinning for a bit and contemplates where home base should be.

I arrived at that point this year.

My old home base was no longer tenable, for a variety of logistical reasons. Furthermore, it was no longer home even on a sentimental basis. I have beloveds there, but I can maintain those ties without being a member of that state.

So where to make my new home base?

This is where Escapees RV Club comes in.

Escapees RV Club

My home-base move actually began with a more modest need: A reliable, stable mailing address (and forwarding service) that I could use now and for years hence, as my old system was no longer viable.

Since I bought my Prius, I'd begun viewing many videos that offered tips for tricking one out for camping, which led to binging on car and van "tours," which led to general #vanlife sorts of video channels.

Most of these youtubers are full-timers in that they live out of their rigs. I am also a full-timer, but in a different, slower way.

 I encountered some videos on mailing address and forwarding services for full-timers.

Hands down, the mailing service most cited for nomads was Escapees RV Mail Service.

While checking out its mailing service, I saw other videos that talked about changing one's domicile, and I saw that Escapees RV was a good launchpad for that, too. And I had come to realize that, in addition to finding a new, permanent mailing address (and forwarding service), it was time for me to divorce my old home base and marry a new one.

Full-timers seem to gravitate to one of these three states as a domicile: Florida, Texas, and South Dakota. There are a number of reasons for narrowing their options to these three, but one of the common denominators is that Escapees RV has a presence in all three, specifically its mail forwarding service.

Once my head moved from simply finding a mail forwarding service to establishing a new domicile, it took very little time for me to execute on same.

I chose Texas as my new home because:

1. Escapees RV Club is based in Texas, and Polk County (in which Livingston sits) is accustomed to working with Escapees RV Club members who make Texas their domicile
2. I loved my time in El Paso (and also Big Bend National Park), so I have a good vibe with Texas, generally
3. South Dakota - shudder! - too cold! 
4. Florida - too far away from the places I lean toward
5. Texas is so immense, there are ample numbers of communities for me to consider if I choose to put down sticks-and-bricks roots there when I'm finished nomadding
6. Establishing a domicile in a new state is not just about some paperwork - it's also about establishing ties to communities in the new state - and I'm willing and able to do that with Texas.

I'll talk more about Escapees RV Club in Part 3.

Sutton County Rest Area design, 1-10 Exit 394, near Sonora, Texas. November 2019. Not my favorite design.

Becoming a Texan

I arrived in Livingston on Friday afternoon.

On Saturday morning, I had my car inspected at the Grease Monkey in Livingston. I was dazzled by the friendly staff, homemade muffins, and coffee that you could make to order, with flavored syrups! I arrived before it opened so I could learn as quickly as possible if there would be any issues that I needed to address if my car didn't pass.

My car passed!

On Monday morning, I arrived at the vehicle registration office before it opened, with requisite paperwork in hand, and ..... I left with two spankin' Texas plates and windshield sticker! In addition to registering my car with Texas, I also had my vehicle title transferred to Texas.

Gosh, I really smiled looking at the Texas plates in my hand. I never would have thought I'd become a Texan. This new rite of passage felt good. It felt right.

From the registration office, I drove to the driver's license office. There are some puzzling logistical issues with that office that are not very customer-friendly, but rather than dwell on that, I'll focus on the positives:

1. The staff were amiable; 
2. My paperwork was in order; 
3. I surrendered my old state's driver's license; and
4. I emerged with a new, Texas driver's license! 

Again, smiles. One in relief that I had all of the appropriate documentation. Two, my divorce from the other home base felt complete; there was closure. Finally, with this second ceremonial rite, I felt that my new status as a Texan had been sealed.

I may have skipped to my car.


Three nights in Chez Prius

I stayed at the Escapees RV Club campground for three nights.

I had a 'dry' site, meaning I had no electricity or water hookups. A restroom (with showers) was conveniently close by.

As with my rest area night in Part 1, I felt supremely cozy each night in my vehicular space.

Road Trip: Livingston, Texas: Part 1: First Night Boondocking

Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

• Destination: Livingston, Texas
• Mission A: Become a Texan
• Mission B: More field testing of Chez Prius (and me), which will prepare me for a hoped-for road trip to Alaska in summer 2020

I left Tucson early Thanksgiving morning, amidst dire weather warnings swirling about the nation. I'd kept my thumb on the forecasts for my route, and for the most part, it looked cloudy, yet dryish.

Although my drive began dry as I left Tucson, much of the first day was a tense slog through light and middlin' rain.

No matter. Such things are like painful labor and delivery - a bitch during the process, but the moment one arrives at one's destination, all is forgotten in the delight of a journey safely made.

The rest area

I stopped for the night at the Eastbound Pecos West Rest Area that is on I-10 between Balmorhea and Fort Stockton. The rest area opened in 2018. It is a serene space, well-lit at night, and - at least on Thanksgiving - with a caretaker-staff person on the premises all night.

Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

After a rainy, chilly day of driving, the warmth inside the rest area facility soothed my body and spirit.

Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

I saw a coyote walk leisurely across the parking lot!

My preliminary research on rest area boondocking had noted the value of stopping fairly early for the day, so as to ensure a good spot - or, indeed, any spot - for overnighting. Having learned this lesson on a road trip to Alaska many years ago, it made sense to me now. Also, I wanted plenty of light to arrange my en suite bedroom before it got dark.

In addition, an early stop rewarded me with time to walk the rest area's two short nature paths and witness a stunning sunset.

Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

A metal artwork sculpture inside the building translated light from the setting sun in a fetching way.

Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

A muzak soundtrack in the building flowed through the internal space. If I remember correctly, I heard mostly Top 40 country songs, with maybe one Spanish-language song. Texans with Spanish-speaking heritages comprise almost 40% of the state's population. About a third of Texans speak Spanish at home. I'd like to see the state's music choices in rest areas reflect its residents more fully.

Chez Prius' first time at a rest area

Traditionally I have stayed at budget motels on road trips in which my goal is to get from Point A to Point B as quickly and efficiently as possible. For this trip, I decided in advance to overnight in Chez Prius at an interstate rest area for both of the two-day driving legs of my trip.

Because I'd be, essentially, in a parking lot, I had to go stealthier than I would at a campground. Also, because I had my en suite toilet with me, I wanted to be absolutely certain of my privacy when I used the toilet at night, in an environment with lots of tall lights and semi-regular foot traffic near my car throughout the night.

The day before I left, I visited a local thrift shop and bought three dark-colored pillow shams. I also bought two more adjustable-length bungee cords. (I already had two in use.)

With the four bungee cords, clothes pins, and fabric, I created a "room" with 3.5 soft walls. Two side walls, suspended from bungee cords with clothespins, completely obscured the two rear side windows. The front wall spanned the width of the car, hung from a bungee cord, just in front of the front driver and passenger seats. The half-wall hung from a bungee that stretched the width of the car, but at a diagonal - meaning that it was level, but one end was affixed to the left side door's ceiling-edge hand grip and the other end was affixed to the opposite side's seat belt crescent slot. The half wall protected the privacy of my bathroom and also of my upper body. Reflectix on the hatchback window and triangular far-rear windows provided sufficient protection for the rest of my reclining form.

Chez Prius at Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

My walls were comprised of:

• Three pillow shams (for one side + part of front + half wall in back)
• A length of black-cream fabric I'd bought in Antigua, Guatemala (for one side)
• Bath towel (front)

The car's front cabin had no cover other than the sunshades for the windshield.

There are things I'll change to make the set-up more efficient in future, but I'm completely satisfied with the privacy my soft walls provided. Because I didn't have to pretend I wasn't sleeping there - it is perfectly legal to do so - I didn't have to be stealthy to the extent one must be to overnight in places where such activities are frowned upon.

But.

My major lesson learned from this first night was: Pull out the clothes I'll wear the next day and place them in a convenient spot for when I arise in the morning. I wasted rather a lot of time in the pre-dawn darkness rifling through my packing cubes for fresh underwear, trousers, and a shirt.

Also, I like very much the two screen 'socks' I bought for side windows. Unless there's interior light, it's hard to see into the vehicle from the outside, and they let me roll down my windows as much as I want without letting any creepy crawlies in. I will buy two more of these screen socks so that I can put them on all four windows if I want.

Chez Prius at Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

A side note: As a small security maneuver, I backed my car into the parking space so I could wheel out of there a few moments faster than if I'd parked with my nose to the curb. I also chose to park closer to the rest area exit than to the building, not so much due to security but to reduce the amount of foot traffic by in-and-out travelers as they stopped for a toilet break.

Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

Overall experience: I was super comfortable in my movable motel, and I felt safe.

Texas-I-10 EB Pecos West Rest Area near Ft Stockton. November 2019.

To El Paso Again (2019): Texas Ladies' Room Art Exhibit Continued

I-10 Texas rest area artwork, buffalo soldier. January 2019.

Between my transitional temporary home in South Louisiana to my next transitional temporary home in El Paso, my bladder offered me more opportunities for artistic stops at Texas rest areas.


On I-10, somewhere between Houston and El Paso, a buffalo soldier greeted me in the ladies' room.

In other Texas rest area stops:

• On the Way to El Paso (2016): Plein Air Pee
• On the Way to Louisiana (2017): Rest in Beauty

I-10 Texas rest area artwork, buffalo soldier. January 2019.

I have deep appreciation for government agents who understand how art and beauty expand the quality of life of those they serve.

On the Way to El Paso: Plein Air Pee

A curious restroom design choice at some of the Texas rest areas:

View from a toilet in the ladies' room, Interstate 10, Texas, between El Paso and Fort Stockton. August 2016.

Not a bad choice, a curious one.

Makes some sense - ample ventilation plus plenty of natural light during the daytime hours. There's also an aesthetic benefit in combining the beauty of outdoor nature with a traveler's natural bodily functions. For those with shy bladders, it might be especially helpful when it's raining.

Speaking of melding the act of urination with scenery, it reminds me of the jaw-dropping view of Chicago's skyline from the ladies room of the Signature Lounge in the Hancock Building:

View of Chicago skyline from ladies room, Signature Lounge, Hancock Building. Chicago, Illinois. December 2009.

And now with the stream of memories (get it? stream?) re: plein air pees, some adventures here.
 

Flora at Texas rest area, Interstate 10, between Fort Stockton and El Paso. August 2016.

At this rest stop, it was so good to see my old Chihuahua Desert friends again.

On the Way to El Paso: A Little Joie de Vivre

Afternoon clouds, stacking. New Mexico. July 2013.

Oh, the skies of the Southwest. The clouds stack up in the afternoons in a procession of beauty, like a choir of white-robed gospel singers convening for practice, to send worship to the heavens.

About two hours east of El Paso, near Plateau, Texas, I entered a time-place vortex of a cloud convention and good South Louisiana music. What could I do but capture this small pleasure of life?

Below, the video:

Music by the Pine Leaf Boys.

On the Way to El Paso: A Remarkable Thing

A highway in New Mexico. August 2013.

On the way to El Paso, the most remarkable thing happened to me. Two things. Two remarkable things. No, let's make it three. All in the space of a day.

After visiting an aunt and uncle in Dallas, then a detour to see an aunt in Austin, I was on my way for reals to El Paso.

I left my Austin aunt's apartment about mid-afternoon, then pulled over for the night in Junction, Texas, at the Motel 6 there.

The first remarkable thing

I passed a pleasant night at the motel. The next morning was warm and sunny; a shining day to begin a new chapter in a slow-travel life. A man sat on a chair outside his room, adjacent to mine, drinking his morning coffee. He and his wife were on a bit of a road trip.

We chatted as I went in and out of my room, putting stuff into my car before checking out.

The man had spent his career as an attorney who focused primarily on administrative issues. Now retired, he provided pro bono services to low-income people in need of legal help.

I told him some about me, that I'd sold my house and all my stuff a few years back, that I moved every year, wrote a blog, that I was en route to my new home in El Paso.

It was a nice conversation. And in trying political and social times - in the midst of a harrowing presidential election process in late August - I felt sustained by talking to someone throwing good stuff into the universe via his pro bono work.

When I was about ready to get in my car and go, the man reached his hand out to me, and it had a fold of money in it. I laughed, taken aback, and literally backed away, saying, "No, no, I don't need any money! Why are you doing this?!" I may have even nodded toward my 1995 vehicle, exclaiming, still laughing, "I drive this car by choice!"

The man was persistent, and I don't know why I accepted his gift, but I did, eventually, saying, "I'm going to accept this, but I'm going to pay this forward to someone! Thank you!" I got into my car, tossed the folded bills onto the passenger seat without looking at them, and drove away. Laughing in amazement about the generosity demonstrated by one soul toward another, for motivations unknown.

The second remarkable thing

I drove from Junction to Fort Stockton, a happy day of pretty weather, exceptional music (curated by moi), and the continuing glow from the first remarkable thing.

At Fort Stockton, I turned into a truck stop to get gas, go to the bathroom, and refresh my coffee. I pulled up alongside one of the pumps. I got out of my car, about to slide my card, select my fuel, and pump the gas.

I glanced over to my left and, parked over on the edge of the lot, I saw a man and woman standing outside a large sedan. The woman walked over to me.

"Are you coming from Louisiana?" she asked.

I thought to myself, "Wha? How could she possibly know that I've only recently moved from Louisiana? I don't have Louisiana license plates. I don't have any bumper stickers that link me to Louisiana."

I replied, "No, but I did move from there recently. Why do you ask?"

She said, "We lived in Baton Rouge. The flooding. We had to leave. We've lost everything. Now we're stranded here; we're out of money."

I looked at her silently for a moment. 

Days earlier, South Louisiana suffered massive flooding, turning many residents out of their homes.

I looked at the sedan - with Texas plates, not Louisiana plates. I asked her about the plates. The woman said, "That's my mother's car. We went to her house and she's letting us use her car." She called to her husband to bring her wallet, which he did. She opened it up to show me her driver's license. Louisiana.

I forget where she said that she and her husband were on their way to. The car was loaded with stuff, indicating a move. Just like my car.

I said, "I have something for you. You won't believe it, but only this morning, a man I don't know gave me money, for a reason I don't know."

I moved to my car door, opened it, reached over to the passenger seat where I had flung the folded bills. For the first time, I opened up the fold to see how much money was there. Three twenties. Sixty dollars. Damn, that was a lot of money.

I gave it all to the woman, who was dumbfounded (as I would have been) and so grateful for the unexpected gift.

When I was in South Louisiana, I knew a Creole woman. And she had lived some hard times along with some good times. A practicing Christian, she told me one day, "You've got to give to people in need and not worry what they're going to do with it. You've just got to trust. That person asking for help could be Christ."

It felt darn good to pass along the man's gift to another person, to just take the risk and trust. Besides, that money was never mine.

It was a remarkable encounter.


The third remarkable thing

I went inside the truck stop, used the restroom, refreshed my coffee, and returned to my car. The woman and her husband had left.

And that's when the third remarkable thing happened: the internal script began to unroll - thoughts about their choices in life, how they'd got into their predicament, why didn't they this, why hadn't they that?

Amazing how quickly I hopped onto the judge-y train.

So quickly, that it pulled me up short. I had forgotten how being poor is not just about having money or not having money. Being poor pervades every aspect of our thoughts and actions. There is fear, anxiety, fatalism, sometimes despair, sometimes who-gives-a-fuck what I spend my money on today, because I owe so much, any dollar I throw at my problems is like spitting into the ocean, and I better grab some gusto while I've got some to grab. Sometimes I make good decisions; sometimes I make stupid ones.

This money wasn't about that couple. It wasn't about what they did with that money. It was about me. It was about having the trust to just give it to another human and let it go.



These three remarkable things came from a man sitting outside his room at a Motel 6 in Junction, Texas, drinking a cup of coffee on a warm, bright Sunday morning in August.

Thank you.

Rodeo, New Mexico

Rodeo, New Mexico

Getting to Rodeo

The day after I went to Rodeo, New Mexico, I ran into a gentleman who claimed Rodeo is known to have the darkest skies in New Mexico. If so, that's saying a lot, because there are a lot of places in New Mexico with dark skies.

It is in an area that attracts birds - and birders.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. From my weekend base in Lordsburg, I zigged west on I-10, then zagged south on Highway 338, hung a right onto Highway 145, then a left onto 80. On Highway 80, I drove through a scenic mountain pass.


I liked seeing another range of mountains in the distance, which had snow cover.

A few miles outside of Rodeo, I passed a curious RV park. It looked well-kempt, it had a goodly number of inhabitants in what appeared to be nice rigs, and yet it was disconcerting to see this settlement out in the sun with no nearby signs of points of interest. Rusty's RV Park, for that's its name, supports the claim of the gentleman I mentioned earlier, its website noting that people come here to look at the night sky.

There was also this, further along the road.

Rodeo

Chiricahua Museum, Rodeo, New Mexico

About two miles north of Rodeo is the Chiricahua Desert Museum. A classy place in the middle of nowhere. A well-appointed gift shop with lots of nice t-shirts, tons of books about the flora and fauna of the neighborhood, jewelry, and other stuff. The museum has two parts. One holds the living snake exhibits, mostly various flavors of rattlesnake, along with some other types of snakes, some lizards, and turtles. The other part I found more interesting, which I'd call a multi-disciplined homage to snakes and turtles through skins, skeletons, artwork, and commercial products that incorporate snakes and turtles.

Chiricahua Museum, Rodeo, New Mexico

Rodeo itself seemed a little down and out, but as is so often the case, down and out has its own beauty. 

Rodeo, New Mexico

Rodeo, New Mexico

Rodeo, New Mexico

Rodeo, New Mexico

Third Street, Rodeo, New Mexico

 I love this shot of Third Street. With a stop sign, no less.

All of the Rodeo pics:

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