ME: <\/strong>I’m leaving San Diego for\u00a0Phoenix today, Mom. Yes, a\u00a0lot would be changing in the coming months, but it was a comfort to know that some things would not.<\/p>\n When\u00a0I have a long stretch of road ahead, I try to find podcasts or audio books about\u00a0the history of the routes I’m taking, or about the cities where I’m headed. On this particular drive, I think that might have been a mistake.\u00a0If you’ve ever driven Interstate 8\u00a0along the border, the terrain goes from dry rocky mountain, to dry\u00a0barren wasteland to literally miles of sand dunes, and all at\u00a098\u00b0 even in\u00a0March. As I listened, I learned this route to California started\u00a0during the Gold Rush after the failure of the Donner Party’s route\u00a0through\u00a0the Sierras. I then listened to\u00a0some cowboy\u00a0stories in which\u00a0characters talked about the carnage along the way, lamenting over and over about their thirst, and intimately describing\u00a0what happens to a body that dies in the desert. Several times\u00a0I found myself taking inventory of how much water I had on board and saying\u00a0a few earnest\u00a0prayers to God for safety over the MINI. You can imagine after 3 hours of this, I felt quite\u00a0relieved to pull into Yuma, Arizona.<\/p>\n I got some gas, did a few stretches (see, Mom?), and headed over to the site of the prison\u00a0that the 3:10 train to Yuma was going to. It was now a state landmark and museum.<\/p>\n Yuma Territorial Prison: Three\u00a0Interesting Facts and One Weird\u00a0One\u00a0<\/span> The second thing that I thought was interesting was that after it closed in the 1930s, the prison became\u00a0a landmark and was supported through government\u00a0funds. In\u00a0the 1990s, the prison was crumbling and\u00a0in desperate need of restoration, but there was a major budget shortfall. So the residents of Yuma themselves<\/em> raised the money to save the prison – nearly $100, 000 in two weeks. Thank you, Yuma residents! The prison was a pretty darn cool place to visit.<\/p>\n The third and weirdest thing was actually the first thing I encountered. When I arrived\u00a0at the visitor center, I was told the prison was closing early because a wedding was being held there. That’s right… a\u00a0wedding<\/em>… in a prison<\/em>. From the look on the my face, the ranger assured me it was a very popular destination for weddings, and people came\u00a0from all over to have theirs in it. Okaaay… I passed the caterers setting up for the dinner\u00a0as I went through the small museum and\u00a0then headed for the outdoor cell block area. That is when I came upon\u00a0the\u00a0full wedding party having their formal\u00a0pictures\u00a0taken. And I\u00a0kid you not, with the long bank\u00a0of iron-barred cell doors behind them, the party posed for pictures. And right next to them on the ground was\u00a0literally a huge\u00a0ball and chain.<\/p>\n As I drove out of Yuma for the final push\u00a0to Phoenix, I couldn’t help but think about all the weddings that were held there. It’s\u00a0one thing to make a joke about getting hitched to “the ol’ ball and chain,” but to start your marriage off that way? And with\u00a0photos that will sit\u00a0framed on the mantle for years to come?<\/p>\n I was in strange new territory indeed.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" When I left San Diego, I felt my\u00a0adventure was truly beginning: True, I was\u00a0leaving a\u00a0land of over-priced everything and\u00a0wacky\u00a0weird politics\u00a0but you must understand that, with the only exception being\u00a0my college years, I had\u00a0lived in California\u00a0for\u00a0my entire life. Now I was headed to territories unknown, not to return to the Golden State\u00a0for several months. 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\nMOM:<\/strong>\u00a0You’re driving ALL the way to Phoenix? Stop and do those stretches I showed you!\u00a0
\nME:<\/strong>\u00a0Will do, Mom.\u00a0Yuma, Arizona, is the\u00a0halfway point, and\u00a0I plan to stop there for a bit.\u00a0<\/span>
\n MOM:<\/strong>\u00a0Isn’t there some movie about the 12:05 train to Yuma?\u00a0<\/span>
\n ME:<\/strong>\u00a0It was “3:10 to Yuma”\u00a0<\/span>
\n MOM:\u00a0<\/strong>I was\u00a0speaking in West Coast time. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/storygirlontheroad.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/03\/FullSizeRender-17.jpg?resize=334%2C334\")
\n<\/strong>The first fact I learned was that the city of\u00a0Yuma was selected for the prison, ironically, by crook. In the late 1870’s, Washington D.C. was drafting a vast funding\u00a0bill in which one small item was to be a\u00a0site chosen in the Arizona territory for a federal prison. Flagstaff had the University, Prescott the capitol, so Phoenix was the obvious choice for the\u00a0prison. When the\u00a0congressmen took a break for lunch, the representative from Yuma stayed behind and erased Phoenix from\u00a0the legislation and wrote\u00a0in Yuma.\u00a0When lunch was over,\u00a0no one wanted to go\u00a0through the monstrous bill again, so they voted to pass it, and Yuma got the funds!<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/storygirlontheroad.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/03\/IMG_2465.jpg?resize=314%2C314\")