Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Does Size Really Matter

I may not be Wonder Woman...

But I can do things that sure make you wonder. 

Sometimes I get a bit miffed when they ask me the size of my motorhome then put me in the tiniest spot in the park that no one else can get into. Sometimes I want to tell a bold face lie and enlarge my rig by 10 or 15 feet, just so I can get a decent spot.

Yesterday, I finally made it to a campground. They assigned me a site after being deeply interested in the length of my RV. I should have known what they were about to do... and lied through my teeth!

Matter of fact, another camper came in the door, just as I was leaving and announced the site they gave him was too small and he wanted a larger one.

I should have known...

I went to my site which was heavily lined in trees and bush, scratched my head, scraped a couple of trees, terrified a child on a bicycle, came within a half inch of knocking over the utility post, folded in my mirror (which doesn't fold) and backed up until the lantern pole in back refused to budge anymore while managing to miss the picnic table near my side entry door by a good solid inch. 

All the while my enthusiastic puppy is in his seat jumping up and down like a cheerleader for the winning team. He gets wildly excited when we arrive at a campground. 

Climbing out the window, through the bush, I noticed the RV was way too crooked to run my refrigerator safely. 

Somehow I slithered down to my basement storage, removed a few thick boards, put them under the rear tires, climbed back in the driver's window, drove forward 8 inches up on the boards which put me so close to the road, that an SUV going down the narrow lane nearly collided with my front bumper.

I had just put 28 feet of RV into a 20 foot parking spot, but BY GOLLY I was in the site they assigned me. 

Seeing that the guy next door was watching me in awe, I said "Excuse me sir, have you a shoehorn I can borrow to park this thing?" 

He burst out laughing and claimed he greased up his rig to fit in his spot. We had a fun conversation. Turns out he was a retired veteran at the ripe age of 75, but he looked far younger. 

He noticed my license tag from the Virgin Islands. He asked exactly what highway I took to get here and I told him no highway, I just put up the sails... I had already noticed he was wearing a secret that indicated he was prone to sailing in far flung ports.

Sure enough, he started telling me about his travels on sailboats in exotic ports. Funny how that happens.

Next all I had to do was move the 6 ton, 6 foot picnic table and I could pull out my steps to use the side entrance door. Harley was still inside, waiting anxiously to go for a nice long walk so he could water every bush and half the trees. 

I was so tired from my long journey, I left the picnic table alone, but I crawled  up on it to pull Harley out the other window.

Camping is so much fun!

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