Last Chance for Pie!

Scottsdale is always warm. At least it's been warm every time we've been there. While the weather in the Atomic City hovered in the 60s, Caroline and I basked in the warmth of mid-90 degree temperatures. An early morning round of golf at Legend Trail Golf Club on the outskirts of northern Scottsdale was just the ticket. We had chosen the course because it had advertised itself as one of the top "lady friendly" courses in the West. Caroline, who had managed to perfect her drives, chips and putts during the vacation, particularly liked the lady-friendly concept, though I argued that every course we had played—with women's tee boxes a full 100 yards ahead of the men's—were indeed "lady friendly." But at legend trail the tee boxes were still challenging, though they did offer a distinct advantage for "the weaker sex"—a term I laugh at each time I watch Caroline scramble straight up a difficult section of bike trail or when she hauls off and belts me for actually using the term "the weaker sex"...

The greatest thing about Legend Trail Golf Club is that it was the place where Caroline was able to shoot the best nine holes of her life, a respectable 45 that included two pars. She was on fire, and she proved it by besting me by three strokes. I redeemed myself on the back nine. Luckily. In the future, I'll have to take the advice of my mentor, Gonzo (not the same one from the Bike and Bean), and twist the shafts of her clubs thirty degrees to the right. Or I'll have to play a lot more golf. Either sounds like fun.

We enjoyed the resort-like accommodations offered to us by our friends Nancy and Keven, who rolled out the welcome mat in grand style. Our stay with them was too short, but in these days of what Our President likes to call "an ownership socieity," workers are owned by the corporations and it's really hard to get time off unless you happen to be the CEO, one of his cronies or hangers-on, or a major shareholder. If you wonder why I spit at this ideal with contempt, go back and re-read what I wrote earlier about the Germans.

It was a smart move on our part to break up the journey back to New Mexico with a quick nine holes at the bizarre, but really nice, Silver Creek golf club in grimy Show Low, AZ. Show Low is one of those towns that screams, "get out of here as fast as you can!" We at first were hesitant about stopping. But Silver Creek was located in the middle of nowhere at the outskirts of town. When we arrived, we found a very nice, very scenic course that was trying hard to be upscale in its blue-collar surroundings. Mostly they were successful. The course was challenging and very scenic. But the best part was that there were no houses whatsoever around Silver Creek. It was the first course we had played during our two weeks on the road that wasn't a housing development. We had forgotten how nice that is.

As the sun set, we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico. It felt like home! The lights of the Daily Pie Cafe winked by the side of the road in Pie Town, NM. If you've never been there, it's worth a trip. The food was good, the pie was excellent (the best we'd had on the entire trip) and the staff was friendly and down-to-Earth. The place was filled with honest-to-goodness cowboys, one of whom was actually wearing spurs, unlike the pink-shirted dandy hanging out at Ruby's the week before.

We spent the night in Socorro, thinking about how nice it would be to return home at last and see the dog, who by now, I'm sure, has figured that the rest of its pack has gone for good. The best part of vacation is coming home at last.

See you on down the road.