High Desert Memories - A Hometown Journal Commemorating Ridgecrest California
You know your in Ridgecrest when . . .
You know your in Ridgecrest When . .

You no longer associate bridges (or lakes) with water.

You can say 115 degrees without fainting.

You can make instant sun tea.

You really CAN fry an egg on the sidewalk.

You give up dusting daily and just shovel out once a week.

You would NEVER think of sitting on a leather couch in shorts.

You see someone driving a black car and KNOW that they're a tourist.

You learn that a seat belt makes a pretty good branding iron.

The temperature drops below 95, you feel a bit chilly.

You discover that in July, it takes only 2 fingers to drive your car.

You discover that you can get a sunburn through your car window.

You notice the best parking place is determined by shade instead of distance.

Hot water now comes out of both taps.

It's noon in July, kids are on summer vacation, and not one person is out on the streets.

You actually burn your hand opening the car door.

You break a sweat the instant you step outside at 7:30 a.m. before work.

No one would dream of putting vinyl upholstery in a car or not having air conditioning.

Your biggest bicycle wreck fear is, "What if I get knocked out and end up lying on the pavement and cook to death?"

You realize that asphalt has a liquid state.

The birds have to use pot holders to pull worms out of the ground.

The potatoes cook underground, and all you have to do to have lunch is to pull one out and add butter, salt and pepper.

Farmers are feeding their chickens crushed ice to keep them from laying hard-boiled eggs.

The cows are giving evaporated milk.

The trees are whistling for the dogs.

A sad resident once prayed, "I wish it would rain not so much for me, cuz I've seen it-but for my 7-year-old."

A visitor to Ridgecrest once asked, "Does it ever rain out here?"
A rancher quickly answered "Yes, it does. Do you remember that part in the Bible where it rained for 40 days and 40 nights?"  
The visitor replied, "Yes, I'm familiar with Noah's flood."  
"Well," the rancher puffed up, we got about two and a half
inches of that."