December 3–5, 2025
We flew back into Tucson, feeling refreshed, revived, and ready to reunite with our faithful little camper—only to discover its battery was dangerously close to dying in our absence. So we hunted down a Harvest Host that, for the low-low price of $15, would let us plug in and bring our trailer back to life.
Since we were already out in civilization, we restocked on groceries. That’s when I got racially profiled… in the most ironically unhelpful way imaginable. The store was filled with Mexican customers, and the Mexican security guard was checking everyone’s receipt like he was auditioning for TSA. Everyone—except me.
He took one look at my middle-aged, nerdy white-lady energy and waved me through like I was a visiting foreign dignitary. Which is hilarious, because I had just unknowingly stolen an entire pack of waters. I even told the checker they were under the cart. We both acknowledged it. Then we both forgot. So yes, store security, this is why you check everybody. My aura is not crime-proof; it’s just beige. Not dangerous. Not edgy. Just… beige.
The next day we spent at the library, enjoying the free Wi-Fi and air conditioning, before heading back to our trusty BLM camp—the semi-homeless one. We had been gone for two full weeks. And all the people we assumed were just passing through…were still there. Apparently the 14-day limit is more of a polite suggestion. Honestly, we could have saved $85 in storage fees and just left our trailer there. Not that I want to leave my home on wheels there, but still.
The following morning we hopped back on our bikes. It felt so good—like our bodies suddenly remembered what they were built for. We discovered Tucson Mountain Park, a mountain biker’s paradise where the trails are a delightful cocktail of gravel, sand, rocks, and washes designed for beginnners like me who want to live. Nonetheless, I was convinced I’d catapult over my handlebars for the first several washes, so I walked them like the cautious creature I am. But by the end, I was riding most of them like the fearless biker I pretend to be.
This is what we had dreamed every Arizona trail would be like.
Although, in the Sonoran Desert, falling off your bike isn’t just a bruise-and-move-on situation. You’re basically guaranteed to land on something spiky or thorny. Nature’s little reminder to stay upright.
Fun fact: Saguaro National Park West, which borders Tucson Mountain Park, used to be part of Tucson Mountain Park.
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