The Hertz airport shuttle brought a must unexpected surprise today. The inquisitive driver asked if I was flying to Denver. No, I said, San Francisco was my destination. “It will be 40 degrees cooler there than it is here in Phoenix.” I replied that it was 107 last night, when I landed.
“My place is wonderful, and cool. I have cottonwoods on my property which provide a very pleasant shade. In fact, during June, I put up a hammock under the cottonwoods, setup a fan and slept outside at night with my three golden retrievers. Beautiful.”
Where might this paradise be?
“50 miles west of Phoenix, 2 miles north of I-10, the other side of the White Mountains. I bought the 10 acres 50 years ago for $250.00 (!). I bought it and planted those cottonwoods.” My annual property tax bill is $60.00. Those golden retrievers keep an eye on the property during the day.
How’s the commute?
“I drive 65 (the I-10 speed limit is 75). I arrive before all those people flying past me.”
I asked if civilization has encroached on his paradise?
“There’s no one within 5 miles.”
With that, I continued my journey to San Francisco.