by Louise G. Crawford

August is hot in the Central Valley of California. Daily temperatures reach 95 or more. Unlike Brooklyn, though, it’s not very humid. Still it’s quite steamy outside in the middle of the day.

Unfortunately, the pool that we used to swim in on the farm is no longer ours to use. My mother-in-law is in the process of having a new one built — it should be done in time for next summer. Which means that my kids have nowhere to cool off in the mid-day sun.

So today we decided to take a trip to the town pool in Tracy because my daughter was desperate to go swimming. Desperate. She was ready to go in her striped tankini and flip flops just minutes after we announced the expedition.

Vroom, vroom, we zoomed into town. But sadly, the town pool was closed; open only on weekends now that California schools are in session.

Disappointment all around. But not for long. Determined New Yorkers, we decided to try to find a local motel or hotel that would allow us to use their pool. We frequently use the pool at the Mariott Hotel in downtown Brooklyn for summer dips. They’re happy to oblige for a small fee.

Easier said than done in Tracy, California. First we went to the old Tracy downtown where there used to be lots of 1960’s style motels with neon signs and kidney-shaped pools.  As a college kid, my husband used to take lonely color photographs of those motels – his stab at William Eggelston-style Americana.

Only one of those motels is still standing in Tracy and the pool was…dry.

Then we ventured to find the local Holiday Inn, Best Western, or Motel 6.  At the Holiday Inn, the woman at the desk suggested that I rent a room for $98 dollars. "It comes with a continental breakfast," she said enthusiastically. "But it’s against hotel policy to let non-guests use the pool."

Finally we spotted a tiny pool behind a chain-link fence near the freeway. I went into the office of the Phoenix Lodge and asked the man at the desk if it would be okay for my daughter to use the pool. "For a fee of course," I added. He thought for a moment and said "You can use it for free. Just keep an eye on your girl. There’s no life guard."

Woo hoo. We had our pool.

My husband and I sat at a white plastic table on white plastic chairs as my daughter swam and splashed in the small (occupancy 12) kidney-shaped pool with a view of the nearby freeway, a gas station, a tall palm tree, and an In and Out Burger across the street.

No problem for my daughter, who swam joyously for over an hour. I even took a dip, which was very therapeutic for my strained calf muscle. My husband didn’t go in. He thought it too funny, too strange to be using a motel pool next to a freeway exit in his hometown.

Too strange.