This is me, last November. That's my bicycle, Lulu, that we bought so I could get around the RV park after foot surgery. Everything was too far away to walk, but I could ride the bike for transportation and a little exercise.
Never name your bicycles. It's like naming the pig you're raising for food. Lulu had to go. We have nowhere to keep her when we're on the road, so we took her down to BICAS and donated her. Hopefully she'll get a home where they keep her inside. It felt bad to leave her, sort of like leaving a puppy at the pound.
Late February has been a weird weather month. The last few days have been very windy.
There has been overcast.
Next week it is supposed to rain. It's odd for it to be wet this time of year.
The bicycle thefts continue. The current theory is that people from outside of the park are providing the site numbers of targeted bikes to the perpetrators who then come in during the night with bolt cutters. All security cables seem to be worthless against the bolt cutters. We don't know if they've made it through U locks or flat chains. Why don't we know that? That would be because the office is making no attempt to collect data on the thefts. We think 44 bikes have been taken; at an average of $1,000 per bike, those are substantial losses. There is a fair amount of frustration with the park owner and his office manager. They do not seem to care about this at all.
This is our sixth winter season here. Up until this winter, we've been content here. I don't know what happened this year, but we're not anymore. The denizens of the park are annoying us. I know how awful that sounds, I do. However, months of driving through the RV park among people who run stop signs, ride their bikes against traffic, walk out in front of cars without looking and etc., is beginning to wear on my last nerve. We've hiked it, ridden it, blogged it and I am bored. Next winter we have to do something different. If you sign up for 5 months, you get a much better rate than if you're monthly, but another five straight months here will probably finish me off. We're going to have to think mightily about this.
So that's what's happening here in the Old Pueblo.