Bonneville America Forums Forums Off Topic Discussion Forums Lounge Any Arizona member out there?

as much as it pains me to say this, I might be moving to Yuma soon...
So if any of the Az members read this and have some insight in to Yuma, I'd really like to hear it.

Thanks
Ryan

We might have a couple...

Sorry Ryan, I'd like to help ya out, but I'm way up here in Prescott, and I've never been to Yuma in my life.

(...but, of course, here comes my obligatory movie reference here anyway...)

But, I understand there's a 3:10 train leavin' for there daily if that helps!

(...sorry...again)

Its all good, ill find out one or the other!

I think most of the members around here who live in AZ are around the Phoenix or Tucson area, with just Becky up in Flagstaff and myself here in Prescott being the odd ones.(no offense meant if you see this Becky ol' gal!)

But who knows. I got a feelin' that somebody who might've lived in Yuma or has visited there a few times might just be around here and might have some info your ya.

In the meantime, you might just Google the town and/or see what Wiki has to say about it.

(...and if ya DO get out this way, be sure to look me up)

i did google Yuma, and I have been there once, for about 2 hours to drop off some gear at MCAS YUMA. Everyone online either loves it or hates it. We shall see what happens.
If i do head south on I-10 till the rubber melts off my wheel, I will look you up...I hope you like Glenlivet ;-)

Rode thru there many years ago. Visited the old Territorial Prison. My recommendation? Don't stay there.

In 1912, Arizona was about to be admitted to the Union and to officially become a state. A small community in the Arizona Territory decided that their town needed a name. None of the townspeople had really thought about it, but as the population slowly grew, the naming of the town became the number one priority.
Many people made suggestions. The mayor, a man named Jones, thought that Jonesville would be a good name. This did not go over too well. Arguments ensued as to what to call this growing community, but there wasn’t a single name that everyone agreed to. An elderly resident, wise to solving unsolvable problems, came up with a suggestion. He said that in order to stop the bickering about naming their town after one of the residents, the name should be selected randomly.

Several people thought that this meant everyone put a name in a hat and then draw one out and that would be the town’s name. The wise man said that it wouldn’t solve anything, as whatever name was drawn would cause a conflict, especially if a name like “Jonesville” or “Smithtown” were chosen.

This was his suggestion: “Since we can’t decide amongst ourselves, let’s let a stranger decide for us. I propose that the first word of the next stranger to come into town will be our name. In that way, it will be neutral and also absolutely random.”

The townspeople held several meeting about this suggestion and eventually agreed that this would be the only fair way to name the town. So, each day several people would gather on the road that led to town and look off into the distance waiting for a stranger to ride in. Several months passed without a visitor, and people were getting impatient. Then, one day off in the far distance was a dust cloud signaling a rider heading their way. The news spread through the town like wildfire and people rushed to the edge of town to await the person who would name their town.

In that cloud of dust was a cowboy. Not an ordinary cowboy, but a black man who had fought in the Civil War. He had enough of the discrimination in the South and decided to head west to make a new life. As he approached closer to the town, he saw a crowd of people. The closer he came, the more agitated the people became as they jumped up and down in anticipation. Finally, they would have a name for their town.

As the black cowboy got nearer and nearer, he suddenly had some trepidation. He had seen unruly and wild crowds like this in the South. He had seen lynching and didn’t want to become a statistic. So, fearful of his life, he wheeled his horse around and headed away.

The people at the edge of town couldn’t believe what was happening. The opportunity to have a name was slipping away. They couldn’t let this happen, so a couple of men mounted their horses to confront this man, catch up wit him and have him speak a single word. As they galloped toward the frightened black cowboy, it was evident he was getting away. In a fit of desperation, one of the men took his rifle from the saddle holder and fired after the fleeing man. A bullet found its mark and the black man fell to the ground.

The two men rushed to the dying cowboy and shouted, “Stranger, say something, anything! We need you to talk! Just one word!”"

Through hostile, dying eyes, the cowboy looked at the men and said, “You mo….”

Well Bill, it certainly was a looooooong way to get there, but I guess it was worth it.....I'm talkin' about the punchline here of course, NOT the distance that poor ol' ill-fated cowpoke took to get to Yuma!!!



(...btw...excuse me while I whip this [thought] out, but was it only me here, or did you too also envision Cleavon Little in the role of the guy who we can apparently thank for giving us the name of that town???)