When using a public campground, a tuba placed on your picnic table will keep the campsites on either side vacant. Author Unknown
My husband and I bought a used Airstream trailer. I’d always kinda, sorta wanted one. I’m almost done writing a book about an Airstream caravan following a famous trail — a middle-aged woman’s coming of age story.
An Airstream calendar from several years ago hangs in my house, still getting turned to months long past. On another wall hangs a barnwood plank depicting an Airstream hand-painted by my daughter-in-law, Chelsea. In the wall socket is an Airstream night light given to me by other daughter-in-law, Leigh. On the coffee table is a history book of Airstreams, given by my friend, Michelle, who is mad at me because I got one before her.
So, okay. I really did want one. However, having a real one in our driveway was a little intimidating. The learning curve very high. Where most Airstreams look very small when you see them in RV lots next to the other brands, they do indeed appear tiny. Hook one onto the back of your truck, and, well, it ain’t so damn tiny.
Walkie Talkies have aided in our backing up, provided the man in the truck takes the directions from —— a woman. And we’ve launched our first long journey. A road trip up north to get out of the oppressing Texas heat.
Over a week ago, we took off on our first adventure. We’ve discovered covering 350 miles a day is an ideal distance for us — so contrary to our days of knocking out 900 miles. My husband is getting used to driving in the slow lane, now keeping track of how many cars he gets to pass in a day. Banner Day? 5.
Our first campsites were only for one night so we booked pull through RV parks. Not very exciting. The one in Missouri was a big gravel parking lot with trailers lined up next to one another. Most of the people lived there full-time.
On the road, it was easy to stop and use the trailer bathroom and make lunch. Didn’t have to go into stores or gas stations. Or eat fast food. Been a little interesting filling up with gas — with a trailer behind us.
We made our way through Oklahoma, Missouri, and Illinois to visit with family in Wisconsin for a few days. We plan to visit some good friends in northern Minnesota, but right now we’re hanging in a beautiful state park on the Chippewa River in western Wisconsin.
A little bit of crisp in the air says fall is here. On my bike ride this morning, I stopped to pick up several maple leaves that have already turned orange. I often set my kick stand to take in the beauty of the river and tall trees and the rustling of the leaves in the trees. I miss the large rustling leaves living in Texas. The leaves on most the trees are so small, one can barely hear them swishing against one another. Something I immediately notice when I venture up north.
An occasional acorn lands on the roof of the trailer. I’m wearing a sweatshirt. I slept with two Mexican blankets covering me last night.
And this is my new friend. He nudged my leg yesterday. I must be in his parking space.
For those of you yearning for a change of scenery, I am happy to share.
I want to learn how to forage.
Beautiful and peaceful. Except maybe for me. Forgive me if this post doesn’t look right. I’m learning how to work on an IPAD. Many, many swear words have accompanied the process of this post. I’m working on the picnic table and the people next to us just packed up and moved to another campsite. Hmmmm. Thinking I don’t need no stinking tuba.