I bet the driver doesn’t think so.
Take a drive on dirt for the last 1/10th mile to my house.
As I’m typing this, I’m watching the town’s garbage collection truck rumble down the unreasonably steep and rugged road that leads to my home and my two neighbor’s homes. This is the third time the driver has come down the unmaintained road and he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. The loose rocks slip under his wheels on the way down and move aside to make deep ruts on the way up. His round trip from the last house on his route to our three garbage pails takes him about 15 minutes each day. He does this twice a week.
But that’s what the Town of Wickenburg wanted, I guess.
Four years ago, they annexed our three homes, against our will, into the Town. Apparently shopping and operating businesses in town wasn’t enough for our land-hungry mayor (who has since, thankfully, been defeated by someone who isn’t quite as obsessed with empire building). They wanted our property taxes, too. It didn’t matter that they weren’t interested in providing additional services for those tax dollars. The road to our homes remains unmaintained, there’s still no fire hydrant within at least a half-mile, we can’t get cable or DSL or town water or sewer services. They assure us that the town’s police and ambulance will come to our homes when called, but none of us have tried that yet. I don’t think they’ll find us. They gave us all new addresses, putting us on a street that apparently doesn’t exist — there’s no sign for it anywhere. My neighbors may have taken the hit of a “move” on their credit reports, but we didn’t — we changed our address right back to what it was.
But it’s worse for the rest of the folks annexed with us. They were promised that their road would be paved. That’s why they voted yes for the annexation, dragging us in with them. Their road remains unpaved to this day.
About two weeks ago, the Town added yet another insult. The town lawyer, who really ought to consider going into a different line of business, sent us a letter telling us that we were in violation of some town code because we didn’t have a contract with the Town for garbage pickup. The letter threatened legal action, with a daily fine of $300 or so dollars a day. The letter was nasty and accusing — as if we were purposely denying the town $19.60 per month of revenue.
I don’t take kindly to threatening letters. I got seriously pissed off and started making some angry phone calls.
Turns out that when the Town annexed us, the letter they sent to inform us of all the changes we could expect — like our new address — also told us that garbage service was available from the town. I don’t have the letter anymore — I tossed it long ago — but I don’t recall the letter saying garbage pickup was required. There’s a big difference, especially to a writer, between available and required. We already had garbage pickup from the local sanitation company and it was cheaper, so I didn’t see any reason to make the change.
My call to Town Hall got me many apologies from the person I spoke to. She told me they’d gotten a lot of complaints about the lawyer’s letter. I’m glad. It means that I’m not the only person who gets angry when some idiot backwoods (or back desert, in our case) lawyer flexes her fingers without thinking on a word processor’s keyboard. Apparently, the townspeople aren’t quite as lifeless as I thought they might be.
Since garbage pickup with the town was now roughly the same cost as with the private company and they’d come pick up twice a week rather than just once, we signed up with the town. It’s unfortunate for the other company. If they keep losing business to the town, they’ll soon go out of business. But heck, what does the Town of Wickenburg care about the viability of local businesses?
So now the garbage truck lumbers down our steep, rutty, loose gravel road twice a week to collect garbage from three pails. We make very little garbage because we recycle so much — and no, they won’t pick that up — so they’re not collecting much from us on every visit. The truck crawls back up at 5 to 10 miles per hour, spinning its tires once in a while to dig one or two new ruts that it’ll have to drive back over a few days later.
After the next rain, my neighbor will pull out his Bobcat and scrape down the road surface. My other neighbor will drive up and down with a home-made smoothing bar — think railroad steel and chain link fence dragged behind a pickup truck. We’ll do our part by driving up and down the hill at 15 miles per hour without stopping or with 4WD turned on in our pickup — the only way to avoid making ruts.
And the town will collect an extra $58.80 per month in revenue for the 2 extra hours it takes its truck and driver to include us on the route.
The show was at least three times the size of the last one I’d gone to, which was back in 2004 in Las Vegas. It was like a candy store for rotor-heads like me, with millions of dollars in hardware sitting out on plush carpeting for us to caress and drool over. And climb on board to sit in cockpits. I didn’t take many pictures — it was just to damn crowded.
I like Eight O’Clock Coffee. It’s an Arabica bean with a light roast. It’s more robust than Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, which I liked before I left New Jersey and could no longer get here in Arizona. (It’s now available in Arizona; I tried it again and was disappointed.) But it’s mellower than Starbucks or any of the other boutique coffee brands — although I’ll take Starbucks Breakfast Blend in a pinch. I buy it as whole beans and grind it at home as part of my coffee-making ritual. Nothing like a good cup of coffee first thing in the morning, huh?
My coffee maker comes with one of those “gold” filters. It’s a washable thing that’s supposedly better for brewing coffee because it helps the oils of the beans meld together or some such bull. Whatever. What I find is that using the reusable filter guarantees bitter bean residue at the bottom of my cup. I’ll stick to paper filters. The coffee maker takes a #2 cone filter. I don’t buy Melita brand or unbleached or any such nonsense. I buy the cheapest ones I can find — they do the job perfect well. My supermarket sells them in packs of 50 or 100. At my rate of 2+ cups per day, that’s enough filters for one or two months. But over the past summer, I discovered that Wal-Mart sells off-brand paper filters like the ones I use in packs of 250 for less than what I pay for 100 at my local supermarket. So when I go to Wal-Mart — which isn’t very often, thank heaven — I buy two or three packs. Stock up and save.
My husband — well, he’s still sucked in. He buys cases of canned corn and canned chicken broth. He buys huge plastic jars of nuts and garlic powder and peppercorns. He buys buffet plates full of smoked salmon and styrofoam trays of flank steaks. He buys a lot of junk we don’t need. He freezes things that are better not frozen. We eventually do eat or use most of what he buys, but we also throw some of it out. I don’t like that.