Don't get me wrong. It isn't being alone that bothers us. Really, we enjoy that at times. We spent two months in an Oregon wildlife refuge where the only other people there were the manager and his wife and they lived a mile away. We enjoyed the cattle in our front yard and the silence.
Once, canoeing on a Wisconsin lake, we came on a campground where there were trailers and tent trailers and tents all set up, grills out, chairs and awnings in place, but there were no people and no vehicles. It reminded us of an abandoned city in one of those movies about nuclear bomb attacks. It was eerie. We later learned, the campground was only used on weekends, but the campers rented the spaces for the whole summer.
It is almost that empty at Valle del Oro now. This is a community of more than 3,000 people in February and March. Today, there are less than 300 people here. Most park models are empty, very few RVs remain. It is such a strange feeling. Where are Joe and Isabel, Walt and Eve, Will and Gert, Vern and Jane? It is like we were in a ghost village.
If the temperature would stay out of the 90s, we would enjoy this more. It is easy to walk or ride bikes on the streets now, at least most of the time. Usually, we have the whole road to ourselves. We do have to be careful, though. Just as we don't expect anyone to come around the corner, they don't expect us. It wouldn't be hard to have a collision. The other night, there were 2 bikes (ours), 4 golf carts and 2 cars at one intersection in under one minute. At least we know we aren't here all alone.
Next Tuesday, we will be "On the Road Again."