Farewell, dear Scion

 

Yesterday I sold my surprisingly beloved 2006 Scion XA hatchback. In 2011, I convinced Andrew to buy a Mini Cooper, because a cute convertible car sounded like the perfect choice for a childfree couple living in Miami. But within a year, we had discovered the early retirement movement and decided that a gas guzzling turbo engine was not the right choice anymore. Andrew was given carte blanche to pick out a frugal car, and he came home with the Scion. It turned out to be perfect - reliable, gas efficient, big enough to carry loads of lumber home from Home Depot but tiny enough to park in small city spots. When Andrew died, I felt like he had taken care of me by leaving me with a car I could depend on.

Every spring, I used this car to move loads of compost, shovelled onto a tarp spread across the back seat. This car transported me and a dog who hated car rides to Ohio several times a year. It hauled me all over the eastern half of the country since I retired. And now it belongs to lovely man who immigrated from Bolivia last year and was excited to buy his first US car. I hope he has as many wonderful adventures in it as I did.

Physicist camping, now with less camping

Last weekend was the annual physicist camping trip in Pennsylvania. Four families (one couldn´t make it), fireflies, and a bunch of cows. We now rent a large house on a farm, which is so much more enjoyable for the non-camping-inclined among us. I´m still in a tent, but appreciate the use of a full kitchen and working plumbing. We stay at a working century farm (that means it´s been farmed by the same family for over 100 years), so we got to watch the them mowing and baling the hay while the cows got to watch us. 

One of the main events was a kids versus adults whiffle ball game. The final score was 12-6, kids winning, and they would have scored even higher if the mercy rule hadn´t been invoked. Which really was a mercy, by the way, since two of the adults sustained injuries. I wisely confined myself to cheering from the stands. 

We also repeated our journey through the abandoned turnpike tunnel, some of us by bike and some of us on foot. The tunnel is 1.25 miles (2km) long and it´s a long but interesting path through darkness. It´s also very good for singing, if your tastes incline toward echoey, monastic-style chords. It´s very memorable to cycle for ten minutes or so in blackness.

I will really miss this annual outing when I´m in Madrid, but I expect they´ll welcome me whenever I can manage a return visit.

Americana and oddities

Spending time in the Midwest in June feels very American. When I went with my parents to the town square to listen to the community band, I thought about how long it might be before I again sit with a group of people who can hum along to Stars and Strips Forever and all the other patriotic songs that are played at concerts like this. And how nice it is to go somewhere and just bump into people that you know - it will take many years in a new city before I experience that. 

I decided that it was time to repeat that smash success from 2020, parent-daughter summer camp. You can take me out of my project management job, but you can´t make me stop being a project manager. I suspect that this both delights and annoys my friends in equal measure, but luckily my parents are quite tolerant of my planning tendencies. 

And now for more roadside attractions from my travels...

From the Garment District in Manhattan. I continue to be a fan of anything larger than life.

A twenty-foot tall quarter. 

Probably the world´s oldest operating roller coaster. This is definitely a picture of the amusement park in Altoona, Pennsylvania which has said world-famous coaster, but I couldn´t really pick it out among the rest. I´m sure Altoona is very proud of it, in any case.