So here it is, January 1986. Halley’s Comet is overhead and , after quite a show the last time it had swung by, this time its further away and kind of a fuzzy dud. And the oil industry in west Texas has busted again. Which means its time to pack up and move again.
We headed back to California, but this time not back to Turlock. The Antelope Valley, located in the High Desert north of Los Angeles, was hopping. So we hopped into the car and headed west.
If you’ve never been to Lancaster/Palmdale, the two big cities in the valley on the western edge of the Mojave Desert, don’t feel to bad. You really haven’t missed much. Its hot in the summer, cold in the winter and there’s not much to see, much less go out and do. I stayed there for five years and aside from winning some more bowling trophies, seeing the first Space Shuttle landing after the Challenger disaster, watching the SR-71’s fly overhead and heading down to Los Angeles – or “down below” as the locals called the City of Angels – there’s not much else of note.
But it was there than my last days of the drilling business came to an end. My heart lay elsewhere, literally and professionally. By September of that year, I was loading up my belongings and taking a chance on my future in more ways that one.
I’ve been back a few times. Only to see my parents until they finally left in 2013 and my sister until she and her family bugged out a couple of years ago. It still isn’t much to look at. I chose a picture at night to run with this post. Its really the best time to see the place.