Cell phone ring or ice cream truck passing by?

An ice cream truck just passed through the campground. As it passed, the ice cream man eyed my campsite, probably looking for a kid. When I first heard his truck's jingle I reached for my cell phone to answer it. I do that all the time when I hear jingles, whether on the radio, on a CD, or from another person's cell phone. This wasn't the first time I tried to answer an ice cream truck. Too many things ring nowadays. We are a society of ringing things.

I don't know how that ice cream man sleeps. That jingle must go through his head over and over long after he parks his truck, even at night in bed. You can't just put a pillow over your head and make a tune go away! Maybe he changes the jingle throughout the day to help keep a single song from getting stuck in his head -- that would make sense. If you are an ice cream man (or woman), please email me and tell me if you change your tune.

A lot of people are forced to listen to the same thing over and over. At my local grocery store, many customers use the self-checkout. A voice tells you what to do. After you scan an item, a female voice says "Please put the item in the bag." I have always wondered if it's a real or a computer voice. If it's real, then I would like to meet the voice to put a face to it. Not much chance of that, I don't think.

A lone grocery checker monitors all eight self checkout stations. "Please put the item in the bag," repeats over and over, all day, probably a thousand times in one checker's shift.

When the checker goes home, he or she probably just crashes in a comfy chair to zone-out after a day of standing up and being nice to people. I bet "Please put the item in the bag" goes through the checker's head. That would be awful. It would drive me nuts.

Is this, was this, a real girl?

This is not a girl, but a doll. I spotted it in a Snohomish, Wash., antique store. Don't you think a real girl modeled for this doll? The face is too different from most dolls, and who would ever think up such a face?

I didn't buy the doll, just took a picture.

If the doll is based on a real girl, then who was she? I have a big urge to find out. Maybe someone will read this and tell me. It would be great to find out, and then meet the girl, who would probably be a senior citizen by now, as I think this doll must be pretty old.

As I starred at this doll, I wondered what it would be like if someone created a doll that looked just like your own daughter or sister or someone close to you -- or even you when you were young. What if you were in a store -- like I was in Snohomish, and you turned a corner and there it was -- a doll that looked just like you or your daughter when she was young? It would be eerie -- a Twilight Zone kinda experience.

This kind of thing can happen. I don't want to find a doll that looks like my daughter when she was little. Well, maybe I do now that I think about it. I'd buy it, for sure. I know that.

Update on my life

As you may know, my father died suddenly in early February. My fragile, 85-year-old mother Ruth ("Ruthie" to friends) was left without her husband after 62 years of marriage. Since then, many of you have written to me, wondering if I'm okay. And so for you, and others who care, I will tell you what has been happening with me.

Photos: Above: A recent photo of my parents with two of their great-grandchildren. Below: Their wedding photo. My father was a pilot with the 8th Air Force in Europe during WW II.

IN EARLY FEBRUARY, I was one day away from ending a three-week RV trip in my new motorhome when I got word that my father, 87, was dying. He had driven himself to the hospital emergency room with a piece of turkey stuck in his throat. Removing it should have been a routine matter, but, alas, there were complications.

I raced from southern Oregon to his hospital bed in the small gold rush-era town of Grass Valley, Calif. He was barely conscious. He tried to speak, but could only whisper "Chuuucck." He wanted to say more, but was too drugged. The nurse said I should let him sleep: there was a glimmer of hope then that he would recover. Eight hours later, at 3 a.m., he died. What he was trying to say to me will haunt me forever.

After the funeral and attending to a myriad of financial and legal chores, I drove my motorhome with my mother aboard to my home in Washington state, where she has stayed with me ever since. I am the oldest of three children, and the only one with the time or appropriate living space to care for her.

THE SADNESS OF MY FATHER'S DEATH has been somewhat tempered by the joy of being with my mother. My father, as hard as he tried, could not care for her properly. He could barely boil water, much less cook a meal. My mother was too tired and weak to cook, so he fed her prepared "meals" from the local discount grocery store. And even though he could not recognize it, she was weakening. I was terribly worried about her health, but was powerless to do anything: my father always insisted on the final word.

In the last decade, my parent's children and grandchildren moved away from them, most to the Seattle area. And so with no nearby family, and few close friends, they were isolated. My mother was unhappy.

Today, even though she misses her husband, she is surrounded again by her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. She has gained weight and strength from eating healthy meals. My father always insisted on being center stage when his family was around. So when I was with my parents, my mother didn't talk much. Now, she is witty, and for the first time in years appears to be looking forward to the future.

Although she is frail, she is easy to care for. She appreciates my help. "Oh, I am sorry to be a burden on you," she says often. And I tell her she is no burden, but a blessing. Helping her feel better, taking her places, watching baseball games with her (one of her favorite things), is incredibly rewarding. Seeing her smile warms my heart. I am so fortunate for this time.

Soon, she will move into an assisted living place, a two-minute walk from my office and only five minutes from my home. She wants to do it. Even though I know it is best, I will miss tucking her into bed, preparing her meals, and competing with her on Jeopardy. Oh, I will spend a lot of time with her at her new home, but having her in mine has been extra special.

ON OUR MOTORHOME TRIP from northern California, I learned much about myself by observing my mother. She read each road sign, often out loud, and laughed at the unusual ones. We passed a big barn with the word "Bargain" (not "Bargains") in ten-foot letters. "I don't think I will go there," she said, "they only have one bargain!" It was exactly the same thing I would think to myself if I saw such a sign. Again and again, she made funny, often insightful remarks. I was amazed at how her thinking and mine were so similar. It was easy to see, too, how happy she was to be in a motorhome.

She loves to be on the road. In 1929, when she was seven years old, her parents took her from Southern California to Illinois on Route 66. They camped by the road and stayed in tourist cabins. She loved it as a little girl. "Roadtrips" were -- and still are -- in her blood. It's no wonder they are in mine, too. I know if I asked her to take a motorhome trip to the East Coast and back that she would be ready to go in an hour.

My mother and father traveled extensively in a series of RVs. They started with a travel trailer when my brother, sister and I were young, and after retiring owned a series of motorhomes.

They last visited me with their RV less than a year ago. But they both knew it was their final trip. My father's eyesight was failing and my mother was frail. It was sad for them, and sad for me, knowing how much they enjoyed traveling by RV.

Since my father's death, I have had little time to devote to the RV Travel newsletter, this blog or to RVbookstore.com, the bread and butter of my livelihood. But things are settling down now and I am back to work about half time. It feels good.

It was sad to lose my father, but I was lucky to have had him for 60 years. Now, I have my mother close by, and that has brought new meaning to me, and great happiness to be able to give something back to her. It's strange how our roles have reversed. I'm sure I will write more about all this later.

Free hotel room, just roll the dice

Only in Nevada! In a state best known for gambling, a billboard like this one for a hotel in Tonopah comes as no surprise. I didn't roll the dice because as an RVer I carry my room with me, but if you are passing through town and need a place to stay, you might want to try your luck. Although there are at least a half dozen hotels (more like motels) in Tonopah, this is among the best, and there's a reasonably priced RV park in the back with full hookups.

More ammo that you ever imagined in rural Nevada

No matter which direction you drive into Hawthorne, Nev., you will be baffled by the sight of countless bunkers surrounding the small desert town. But if you nose around you will soon learn that those bunkers -- 3,000 all together and spread over 237 square miles -- house the world's largest supply of munitions. One third of the weapons used in the current conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan were once stored in Hawthorne.

The Hawthorne Ordinance Museum, right on the main drag of town, tells everything you ever need to know about munitions -- bombs, rockets, depth charges, mines, torpedos and whatever else the American military has developed in the last 70 years or so to kill an enemy. All the weapons were either manufactured, stored or tested in Hawthorne. The display is mind-boggling.

My tour guide was Herman Millsap, who recently retired from the Hawthorne Army Ammunition Depot after 42 years. The military facility was established in Hawthorne in 1930 after a disastrous explosion destroyed a similar Navy facility in New Jersey that leveled a town and killed more than 50 people.

His "five minute" tour lasted about a half-hour and was fascinating. What I came away with was the thought of how incredibly brilliant and innovative we Americans are at building weapons, but saddened that we need to create such evil things in the first place. Just thinking about the destruction many of the weapons can bring to a human body is like pondering a nightmare.

"The way it works is develop and counter," said Millsap. "One side develops a weapon, then the other side devises a way to counter its effectiveness and the process goes on and on."

One story that Millsap told was of a World War II magnetic device that was launched over the side of a destroyer with the intent of landing on a German submarine and then attaching to its side. Once there, the "Anti Submarine Knocker" would bang away, exposing the location of the sub for the destroyer's depth charges. Watch the one minute video below to see Millsap explain the device.

Stop by the museum if you are traveling U.S. 95 through Nevada. You can't miss it. It's open 10 to 3, Monday through Saturday. Admission is free. For more information, call (775) 945-5400.

Photos: Top: Inside the museum. Middle: Outside the museum. Bottom: Control panel that controlled remote control helicopter than could be used to drop torpedoes or for reconnaissance.

Lonely store in a lonely town

Mina, Nevada, along U.S. 95, is a few dozen homes, a few businesses, a tiny post office and one or two gas stations. I stopped at one station, not for gas but for an ice cream, which was advertised on the front door. The clerk was smoking a cigarette and playing one of the three slot machines in the musty, dark place, where half the shelves were bare. The area behind the counter was a hodgepodge of trashy looking odds and ends. The ice cream was in a regular refrigerator. I opted for what I thought was an Eskimo Pie, but it was chocolate inside, which was acceptable. I wondered how long it had been in that fridge, but I didn't ponder that thought too long. "It's frozen, so it's okay," I figured. But I concluded that I would probably not buy any bread due to the potential staleness factor. As I paid for my ice cream bar I asked the clerk if she really did sell gasoline. As you can tell by the weathered sign, that would be a logical question. "Oh, yes, she said, but we're out right now."

As I left the store into the chilly but sunny day, the clerk walked back to her slot machine, dropped in a coin and puffed her cigarette.

Alone in the desert, but not really

It's a little frustrating to head off into the middle of the desert with the intent of getting away from civilization, and then realizing you can't do it. No matter where you go, if you look above you will see evidence of mankind. Even along the most remote backroad, they will be there -- slivers of ice marking the path of an aircraft high above. In southern Nevada you will often see six or more at a time -- looking like comets as they streak silently across the sky.

Sometimes when I am in a very remote place in the desert, I will pull off the road, turn off my RV's engine and walk into the vast expanse of dirt and cactus. Being from the Northwest, where one's footsteps are marked by the sloshing of shoes, it's always a thrill to hear their "crunch, crunch" in the desert. On these walks, I will often come to a point where I will pause to enjoy my solitude. But if I should look above, they will be there -- airliners speeding across the heavens. As I look skyward I know that at least a few passengers are pressing their noses to the window, looking over the vast "nothing" below. They don't see any evidence of me because I am 100 times smaller than an ant. But I see them. Sometimes I wish they would just go away.

No evidence of civilization

I camped last night in the isolated Mesquite Campground in Death Valley National Park. It's five miles from Scotty's Castle at about 2,500 feet in the lonely northern corner of the park. You can see my campsite in the photo. Last night before I went to bed, I stepped outside to see the stars. The nearest town is 50 miles away and it's tiny. So there was no artificial light to interfere with Mother Nature. Above me were a million stars. The Milky Way actually looked milky, like a high thin cloud. There were four other RVs scattered in the campground, but, like mine, they were dark. So on this night, all I could see were stars with the exception of a few distant planes, their strobe lights blinking like pin-point-sized flash bulbs.

As my eyesight adjusted to the darkness, more stars appeared. The only sound was the wind. It was magnificent!

A lonely road helps me think

This is a scene from highway 267 leaving Death Valley (via Scotty's Castle), heading east toward U.S. 95 in Nevada, a major two-lane route from Reno to Las Vegas. For most of highway 267, this is what the road looks like. I don't think there is a single residence along the 27 miles from Scotty's Castle to U.S. 95. There's at least one ghost town, which you can see in the picture. Otherwise, it's nothing but road and wide open spaces including a couple of huge dry lakebeds you can drive on for a smoother ride than any freeway. I once hit a golf ball on one of these lakebeds and after landing it bounced forever. I never found it.

In the 45 minutes it took me to drive this road, only two or three vehicles passed from the other direction. When I wanted to take a picture, I could just stop in the middle of the road and snap away. Actually, I did that a few times. You can almost always see another vehicle approaching for miles so it is next to impossible to get hit. I like roads like this because I can get a lot of thinking done.

A self-portrait at Death Valley

I get letters pretty often from readers who wonder why I never publish my photo. "What do you look like?" they ask. I tell them to think of me as tall, dark and handsome. That's what I am, of course, but then maybe that's a lie. Anyway, as I was walking through the Mesquite Campground at Death Valley early yesterday morning, I decided it was time to take a self-portrait. So here it is. One thing you probably did not know about me is that I have very long legs.

And speaking of "tall, dark and handsome," do you know where that term came from? It was based on movie idol Rudoph Valentino back in the 1920s. But the actor wasn't tall at all, just average. Strange.

Coyote begs at Death Valley

This coyote was waiting for a handout from tourists at the entrance to Scotty's Castle in Death Valley. I snapped this picture but did not feed him. The last time I was here was five years ago and a coyote was begging then, but down the road at the Mesquite Campground. Some misguided park visitors feed these animals. They don't know if a wild animal becomes dependent on people food it can forget how to find food on its own -- not good for survival.

A reminder how fast our transportation has changed

This is a stagecoach that served as public transportation in the Death Valley vicinity from 1890 to 1910. In case you are math-challenged, that's about 100 years ago. You can see this weathered stage and other antique vehicles in the museum at Death Valley.

Isn't it amazing how far our mode of transport has evolved in such a short time? Can you imagine riding aboard this over dirt roads in 100 degree heat? No fun!

By the way, have you heard the term "riding shotgun?" The expression was suggested by the armed guard with a shotgun who often rode beside the driver on stagecoaches like this one in the old American West.

Death Valley palm trees under construction?

If you walk through the Furnace Creek Ranch oasis in Death Valley you cannot miss the many date palm trees that are propped up with wooden supports. No, the trees are not sick. More than 130 of them have simply been relocated to make room for a one-megawatt solar photovoltaic (PV) system that will soon generate enough energy to power one third of the park concessionaire's needs -- about the same as what 400 average-sized homes would use. And it's appropriate that the facility is located in Death Valley, the sunniest place in the USA. When it goes online this spring, it will be the largest privately owned solar system in the country.

Over the next 30 years, the system will eliminate the emission of more than 284,000 tons of carbon dioxide, nitrogen oxide and sulfur dioxide -- primary contributors to global warming, smog and acid rain. This is equal to planting more than 54,000 trees and removing more than 3,700 cars from California's highways. The system requires virtually no maintenance and will even withstand a direct hit from a golf ball from the Furnace Creek Golf Course -- easy hacker striking distance.

Oh, yes. . . the wooden palm tree supports will be removed once the trees' roots take hold.

Amazing nature trivia from Death Valley

Here are a few things I have learned since being in Death Valley National Park.

Badwater, at 282 feet below sea level, is the lowest spot in the Western Hemisphere (see the pic). Last night I was there at dusk, and alone, making me the lowest human in the Western Hemisphere. I felt very special.

Mesquite trees grow throughout Death Valley. But did you know that to find water they can extend their roots 60 feet into the earth? True!

Pelicans sometimes winter in Death Valley in a desert oasis. So if you see one, you are not hallucinating from sun stroke. And speaking of sun, back on July 10, 1913, the temperature hit 134 degrees-- a world record high temperature for years. I was here once when the temperature was 122 degrees! Going from air conditioning to the outside was like walking into a wall of heat.

Packrats are found in Death Valley. You can see a stuffed one in the picture.

Kangaroo rats are plentiful. They do not look like kangaroos, but like mice. The amazing thing about a kangaroo rat is that it needs no drinking water to survive -- not even moist food. The rats manufacturer all the water they need from even the driest seeds. It's unlikely you'll see a kangaroo rat because they are nocturnal.

The golf course at Furnace Creek is more than 200 feet below sea level, making it the world's lowest grass course. In the summer, coyotes sometimes rest on the cool greens. So be careful you don't bonk one. When you camp at Furnace Creek, you will often hear coyotes howling in the night. And a tip: make sure you never tie up your pet outside your RV: the coyotes like to dine on poodles and other assorted animals. Park rangers keep a count of the number of coyote pet meals.

The Furnace Creek oasis, where I am now, produces one million gallons of fresh spring water every day. Imagine that! For miles around, Death Valley is dry desert. But in the village, palm trees are everywhere and a little stream passes right through.

And speaking of water, did you know that fish live in Death Valley? But don't bring your fishing pole, because they are itty bitty fellows - barely longer than an inch. But, boy, are they hearty! The desert Pupfish can live in water three times saltier than in the ocean, and in temperatures more than 100 degrees!

I hope you enjoyed these facts and figures.

Gas, cell phones and WiFi in Death Valley

In my continuing quest to find warm weather, I am now in the Furnace Creek oasis in Death Valley, California. The good news is that it is sorta warm here -- about 60 degrees. The bad news is that it is really, really windy -- more than 50 mile per hour gusts yesterday. Last night, half asleep, I feared my little wheeled house would blow away to Kansas.

Here are a few news items. Gas prices, as always, are higher (both at Furnace Creek and Stovepipe Wells) than elsewhere in the state due to the remoteness of the area. Diesel is available at Furnace Creek.

Cell phones do not work. My Verizon service and a neighbor's T-Mobile are out of range as well. The good news about that is that you can walk around without having to listen to people gab on their phones. When dining in the two restaurants in the Furnace Creek oasis, you can do so in peace without phones ringing and being subjected to boring conversations.

Yesterday afternoon, the Corkscrew Saloon was packed for the Superbowl. Eighty percent of the crowd was for New York: I think they were rooting for the underdog.

Some really good news for Web Geeks Like Me is that free WiFi is now available in the village and even across the street in the Sunset Campground (huge parking lot for RVs only). If you have a computer with you and want to increase your odds of accessing the Web from your coach, get a site close to the general store. Otherwise, you can take your computer into the village and get online there. There is also free WiFi at the park visitor center, but I am told it is not as strong a signal.