It’s been said that a man’s home is his castle. But when you compact that castle into a really small space, put it on wheels, and call it an RV, well…
Day 1. Driveway. Pre-Rollout Checklist:
Water, propane, firewood, maps, GPS – check. Good-intention fruits and vegetables that will rot in the fridge and get tossed on Day 6 – check. Hot dogs, chips, cookies, Buick-size marshmallows – check. Dog is correctly positioned on dinette seat and making slobber patterns on window – check. Okay – all is in order, nothing forgotten, let’s roll!
Day 1. End of Driveway:
Stop, return to house and retrieve less-than-pleased wife. Note to self – add “Wife” to Pre-Rollout Checklist.
Day 2. Remote national park in the mountains, communing with nature:
“Hey – look over there. That’s the biggest dog I’ve ever seen. And some idiot is letting it wander around off its leash!”
“That’s no dog, you dolt,” my wife replies, “it’s a bear!!”
She’s right (what else is new). It’s some kind of a grizzly-Sasquatch hybrid, about 18 feet tall and at least four tons. The ground trembles as it walks. A squadron of small planes is circling it, trying to shoot it down as it rips entire trees out of the ground and tosses them aside like matchsticks. Assuming Discovery or Animal Planet will want to send a film crew right over, we find a Park Ranger and tell him about the harrowing, near-death-and-dismemberment encounter.
“Oh yeah, that’s just a little black bear. If it comes around again, just shoo it off.”
“Shoo it off? SHOO IT OFF!?! It’s a bear, not a freakin’ beagle! That thing was bigger than our motor home! Did I tell you about the squadron of biplanes chasing it?? Your entire campground is about to be devoured by Bearzilla!”
“Got it sir. Thanks for the report. I’ll go in right now an alert the Navy.”
We left, feeling better that he was going to do something to protect the safety of his campground. Although in hindsight, I’m now wondering if he was serious. We were an awfully long way from the ocean.
Day 3. State park, meeting some interesting new people:
“I’ve only got one spot left for tonight,” says the man at the check-in kiosk. “Busy weekend. How big’s your rig?”
“Ah, 25 feet.”
“Perfect. Space 39A. It’s only a 16-foot site, but you’ll squeeze ‘er in there I’m sure. You’ll have an old travel trailer on one side of you, nice folks, part of a highway cleanup crew. You know, for the life of me I don’t know how they can roast road kill over an open grill like that and make it smell so good, but they manage to do it. They invited me over for supper, but their six pit bulls make me nervous.
“Other side of you’s a big group of college kids here for the weekend. Gotta love youth, ya know. No tents, just sleeping bags, buncha guitars, two tubas, and 50 gallons of margarita mix. And behind you there’s a group camp with a revival meeting going on. Little crowded, 80 or 90 people I’d guess, but I’ll tell you what, when they get singing, that’s some great gospel music. And when them tubas join in and the pit bulls get ta’ howling, it’s a regular orchestra!
“Well, enjoy your evening. Sleep tight.”
Day 3 continued. Al’s RV and Mobile Home Resort:
Arrived late. After fleeing the drunken tuba music in the state park, this was the only other thing in the area. Awoke early. Sun was blocked by the two mammoth RVs flanking us.
“Morning,” came a faint voice from somewhere high above as I stepped out into the deep steel canyon formed by these two rolling apartment blocks. I saw a face in one of them, a tiny speck far above.
“Morning,” I yelled up to him.
“Hang on, I’ll come down.” I heard the whirr of an elevator, and a couple of minutes later the side doors of his coach opened with a hiss and he stepped out.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “We saw your little guy roll in late last night. Very cute. How big is that anyway – 10, 11 feet?”
“Twenty five,” I said.
“Really? I’ll be darned – didn’t look that big, but then depth perception can be tricky from way up there. That’s smaller than the car we tow.”
“I can imagine. How big is this thing anyway?”
“Eighty-six feet. That’s without the boat trailer or the toy-hauler attached.”
“Wow. That must take some serious power.”
“Well, she’s actually got a pair of diesel freight locomotive engines under the hood, modified for more horsepower. Twelve axles, 72 wheels, dual steering compartments front and rear. And of course she’s articulated so she’ll pivot to make it around the curves.”
“Must not get the greatest gas mileage.”
“She actually gets 22 or better on the highway, which I’m kinda proud of. In fact, just yesterday we went almost a full 23 miles before the tanker truck that follows us had to stop and pump ‘er full again. That’s pretty good!”
“Yeah, I’d say so. Lots of space too, I’d image.”
“Not bad, since it’s just the missus and me. A tad over 7800 square feet on four floors, plus the basement. Say, why don’t you and your wife join us for dinner? We’ve got about 90 folks from a local revival group coming over, along with a couple of tuba players. I hear those tuba guys are pretty darn good – say, you all right? You look a little pale all of a sudden.”
“No, I’m fine, just need to get the tiny rolling castle on back home. Reality seems to be calling….”
Paul can be reached at paul2887@ykwc.net.