Like any good Mid-Life Crisis purchase, the 1955 Aljoa camper I bought has been nothing but problems since the day I brought it home.
[Click here and here and here and here to get caught up.]
Recently, I was required to pay $300 for steel plates to be welded on the undercarriage that will support the special-ordered stabilizing jacks I needed because I’m a princess and can’t sleep in a crooked bed.
Then, on the way home from the the stabilizing jack installation, I failed to remove the grates off the stove and as I
careened around turned a corner, they flew off and shattered into a zillion pieces. Sigh. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who welds odd pieces of an un-nameable type of metal together?
Ignoring the fact that three windows were without screens and I had no spare tire, I decided Memorial Day weekend would be her maiden voyage. I was as excited as a five-year-old with a new toy. Husband has not been all that thrilled with my mid-life crisis-itis so I planned the trip with my friend, Mary.
I was to arrive at her house by 9:30 so we could fill the water tank and tackle the last project preventing me from camping – installing blinds to keep all the Peeping Toms away. Yes, I’d be parking in the center of 130 acres of remote family farmland, but you never know who might be out there.
I got a bit of a late start because I needed to bring my entire home with me, including the two-year-old cowboy hat that’s never been worn.
Then I had to hook up the camper by myself, which is no small feat, let me tell you.
Finally, I arrived on Mary’s doorstep at 10:30 am. I dragged eight roller blinds out of the car and onto the driveway.
“Uh-oh,” she said. “The cordless screwdriver isn’t working.”
“No problem.” I said, too excited to care who’d see me in my wrinkled birthday suit. I tossed the blinds in the back of the car and off we went.
“Uh oh,” Mary said, halfway to our destination. “We forgot to fill the water tank.”
“No problem.” I laughed and pulled into the Home Depot where my niece, Kim, works.
She convinced them to let us use their garden hose to fill my little eight gallon tank. A small crowd gathered. We stood around talking and laughing while we waited for the tank to fill.
“Ha, ha,” Kim said. “It sure takes a long time to fill such a little tank.”
“It sure does!” I laughed.
Wait. It doesn’t take that long.
I ran to the other side of the camper where the tank was located. Water cascaded from under the cargo door.
“Uh-oh,” Mary said, handing the hose to Kim.
“No problem.” I hurried back to the side of the camper with the fill cap and snapped it shut. “Let’s just go.”
Mary and I climbed in the car and headed off to the farm. Thirty minutes later, I pulled off the road and onto the grass choked path that leads to a hill overlooking the entire property and miles beyond.
Weirdly, the magic camping fairies had not prepared our camping site, so made an emergency call to brother Rick and nephew Jordan pleading with them to come out and mow a patch of grass for us.
While we waited for them to arrive, I opened the door to the camper. Water ran across the floor and out, onto my shoes.
“Uh-oh,” Mary said.
“No problem?” My confidence wavered.
We examined the source of the water and discovered that there wasn’t a leak. Evidently, back at Home Depot, we’d been overfilling the tank by several gallons and the water shot out a pinhole-sized air vent in the tank – sending water, not just out the cargo door, but all over the floor of the camper.
Fortunately I’m a germaphobe, so had everything packed inside plastic tubs. We dragged the contents of the camper out to the grass, but not before we set up our tick trap. Mary is a bug-aphobe and insisted we lay a white sheet down so we could see the ticks as they marched over to attack us. This would have been easier if the grass weren’t three feet tall, but we managed. We sat around in the sun making grass whistles, flicking creepy black ticks off the white sheet and waiting for the interior to dry.
I closed my eyes, tilted my face toward the bright sunshine and, sighed with contentment, knowing all my problems were behind me.
“Uh-oh,” I could hear Mary say. “This is Crazie Town and problems are never behind you.”
Tune in next week, for the rest of the story.
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When there are ticks involved, you need to be with someone you know REALLY well . . . and don’t mind them getting to know you REALLY well. Close encounters of the worst kind.
Theresa, that is true. Husband likes the country western song “I’d like to check you for ticks.”
Can’t wait for next week’s installment!
Sally, thanks for commenting!
The picture of the camper in the tall grass is gorgeous. THAT looks like heaven.
Sharon, glad you like it. I think it’s beautiful too. I have it as my screen saver!
Ticks like trees. We have a lot of trees over our stabilized camper on the farm. The neighbor cuts the grass on his tractor – but. Ticks like trees. And they especially like dropping onto your head. You can imagine how happy this makes Cliff. He’s become an Off for the Deep Woods fanatic; Cliff, who doesn’t like chemicals. either. Ah, well. We haven’t gotten Limes Disease in ten years. Actually, not in my childhood, either. I guess we’ll survive. Or not.
Janet, your the third person who’s told me ticks like trees. I’m afraid I laughed out loud at the first person. I’d never heard that. But, I will be aware of ticks and tigers hanging out in the trees at the farm.