Bad Wind Blowin'

Trouble ahead. Sometimes it's good to know so you can avoid it, and sometimes knowing it makes you know you're hitting trouble, but you have to plunge into it.

Such was the case yesterday as I headed across central Texas, on backroads, of course. I was nearing the town that was my destination for the night and I saw some ominous clouds on the horizon. Uh oh, I thought, the band of storms that I thought maybe I missed was darkening a growing portion of sky.

Steady as she goes, I figured. Since this is crackling dry central TX, I started pondering the grassfires that I used to dismiss as No Big Deal. Three years ago as I ventured on my first HEAR US trip, I was treated to an up-close-and-personal tour of the after-effects of grassfires, and have since revised my NBD opinion to V(ery)BD.

As I neared town, I became more alarmed because the dark sky was resembling either tornadoes or smoke. Hmmm...and me, down to 1/4 tank of gas, not the ideal amount if you have to run for the hills in rural anywhere.

I figured I'd keep driving in that direction until I could figure out what was up. Certainly cop cars would block our path if this were a fire or tornado. I hope.

As I neared town it became ominously obvious--of course, a dust storm. After all, we're nearing the Great Depression 2, and plenty of bare topsoil is available in the Dust Bowl. I'm not making this up. Here is a link to my pix I took as I neared the storm...

I'm wind-seasoned, but it's like snow, the first time of the season is a learning curve. No time for learning here. I kicked on the Weather Band and heard that gusts of 60+mph, regular winds 45-50. It got dark. And when it started spitting rain, my initial thought was "Oh great, mud on the windshield." The new wipers I had were useless because of the headwinds/sidewinds, whatever-winds.

And suddenly my 1/4 tank of gas became even a bigger problem than my empty water tank. Temps were supposed to drop into the 40s, with wind, I figured that would be plenty cold. And since my genny doesn't run on less than 1/4 tank I'm screwed. I had to get gas. The ubiquitous WalMart appeared, with good ol' Murphy's gas. OK.

Despite my ample size, the winds nearly blew me across the lot as I held the nozzle. I figured $20 would do the trick, and literally as I was replacing the hose the gas station's power went out. Timing! At least for me.

I aimed Tillie's nose into the wind on the edge of the WM parking lot. And we rocked and rolled for the better part of 3 hours, when it subsided somewhat. I was tired, and used the motion to rock me to sleep.

When I looked out this morning, I saw what could explain some of the lessening winds...a semi had parked between me and the wind, shielding Tillie from the worst of it. Thanks, trucker.

My thought through most of this was for those households living in old beater mobile homes and RVs that I've passed on all the backroads of this country. I know how wind-proof Tillie is not. And it's a newer RV. What would it be like to try to live in a dilapidated home of any sort with this wind, or other bad weather common across the nation? (I'm not ignoring the even worse realities of other countries, I'm just writing from my experience.)

All this at a time when Congress is debating an amount of money I can't even begin to imagine. And they can't see that millions of substandard houses are posing hardships for tens of millions of people? Perhaps they should ride around with me....

Driving Dirty and Proud of It!

I'm not a total slob. In fact, I appreciate reasonable attempts to attain some form of neatness, even when I'm the one doing the cleaning.

But I have to claim the title of "dirtiest RV in the southwest." And I just don't know what to do about it.

Tillie got a good cleaning back at the end of September, let's see, 4 months and 4,000 miles ago. Why would she be looking so dirty?!

I've washed her by myself before, and then said real bad words when it rained, amazingly in dry climates like Las Cruces in February! It usually rains the next day after the Tillie bath--a good way to break a drought!

So I'm going to keep driving-dirty. I will be proud. I'm not one of the pristine RVs that look like the maid, butler and valet came out to clean the specks of dirt off before anyone sees it. Nope, we're going to be the dirtiest little RV in the whole country.

On another note, I am sort of adept at electrical stuff, having taken a wiring course back in my lighting showroom management days. But I was a bit flummoxed yesterday when my GFI outlet tripped, not why it did, but how to get it back into the working column.

Have you ever noticed how small the writing is on those things? Reset? Test? Well, having discovered the breakers for AC and the fuses (which I've worked with before) for DC, I figured it was a slam dunk for flipping the breaker but the reset button wouldn't reset. Hmmm....

So I got down on the floor and again looked at the breakers, inconveniently located under my bed, and fiddled around, and lo and behold--it works. I'm not asking why.

As I am a month into this 4th year of my travels, I smile at the stress that I let myself experience my first time out...worried about whether or not I had full hook-ups, if the park had a gate, how long I could go without dumping, etc. I even sort of cared if I was dirty.

Now, nah! Whatever.

Better Than Sleeping Outside

I knew I was spoiled. After the summer of being comfortably parked at a friend's in the Chicago suburbs and 2 months of all the comforts (water, electric, easy access to dump, great view, quiet) in GA, I left last week, all set for a 4-month stint south and westward.

My travel is also my work, so I have a plan, albeit loose one, as to where I'm going. Some of my travels are bound to include boondocking, the art of living without the hook-ups we all usually love. Boondocking has advantages--the freedom to park just about anywhere, and CHEAP!. And it has disadvantages, especially if weather becomes an issue.

Tonight it will be an issue for me, a chilly-wimp. It's going to drop to about 20 here in northern Florida. I'm boondocking, which means relying on a noisy, inefficient generator in the morning to kick on my otherwise noisy (but genny drowns it out) propane-sucking furnace. I will rarely kick on genny and furnace other than the morning.

I'd love some good advice on how to minimize the discomfort besides the obvious--dress warmly. My down comforter works fine once I get under it. It's times like now as I watch my inside thermometer drop to the low 60s and beyond that I'd like to have some simple way of generating a bit of warmth while I work on my laptop.

My reality check is my work with homeless people over the last 23 years. I know lots of folks are out in lots colder conditions, lacking the basics I so take for granted. So, my complaining has a caveat--I'm whining about something that isn't even the beginning of suffering. Wimp!

Where Did They Go?

The couple claimed they lived in a conversion van. That loose description applied to the late model van converted from vehicle to house by virtue of a mattress wedged into the rear seat area.

They parked in a campground, drawing my attention because they appeared to be living in their vehicle. At $33 a night it is cheaper than even the cheapest motel. Their view was priceless, a lake and mountain outside their window.

Their possessions fit inside their vehicles except for 2 camp chairs perched by the concrete "dining room" table, standard with each site. I'd see bath towels hung on the van door to dry, but little other signs of life. Their van remained parked while their nondescript sedan took off every day, to work? I wondered.

Since they were around a long time by transient campground standards I kept noticing them. It became painful awareness when temps dropped to the low 20s. I've slept in a car before, years ago as a situationally-impoverished college student in search of travel adventures. The 40 year time span doesn't erase the chill-to-the-bone memories.

The couple, fortunately sans children, were fairly invisible. I never saw their faces. When I had to leave my dream campsite for a more parking-lot-style spot I ended up just 100 yards away from the van-campers. Me, in the lap of modest luxury--with heat, water, space and soft chairs. My neighbors lacked all of that and more that I can only imagine.

For homelessness to be so close and me to not be able to do anything to help was frustrating. They didn't ask for help. I don't know if they needed anything, or perhaps I was projecting my guilt on their situation.

But they are gone now, disappeared in the past few days as I visited with family for the holidays. I can only hope their spartan camping experience led to an improved situation. They helped me remember why I'm doing what I'm doing--giving voice and visibility to homeless kids. Homelessness should disturb each one of us who live in luxury while so many lack the basics. I miss them....

Scrooge? Or Sensible?

Take this beautiful spot, plop in your RV, and that's all the decorating a person should need in my way of thinking.


Driving through the holiday-inflated campground tonight, with rain keeping the outside activities to a minimum, I was exposed to the other way of thinking--park the RV and hang holiday lights. Yikes!


I imagine most of these weekend invaders will be packing up their sparkly holiday lights, cruising by the dump, and heading home on Sunday. But for now they've turned this beautiful spot into Atlantic City boardwalk tacky.


Maybe they're lighting up "Black Friday" to lift everyone's spirits. At least the gas prices are cooperating, a boon for the RVers of this world, and a bust for the conservation mentality that was temporarily peeking its head out. I saw gas at $1.59, not a discount gas station either. It was more than that when I started off on this sojourn 3 years ago.


I'm all for shaking the pervasive doom-and-gloom that the media is wallowing in now. It's contagious, and if things are as bad as I imagine they are, we don't need a full-fledged lemming-like panic to make it worse.


Maybe those little lights are peoples' way of staving off the recession-inflation-deflation blues. For me, I'll just look out at this view and rejoice that no one can park between me and this spectacular view.

Almost Heaven!

After a grueling October, traveling to hither-and-yon, I'm parked in a divine spot.

What qualifies for "divine" according to this RV-er, starting her 4th cross-country trip? After crossing NY in an Oct. nor'easter, just about anything could be an improvement. But here are the top items on my list:

• VIEW--I'm fine with parking lot stops, especially when it saves HEAR US dollars. But no comparing the side of a building with a lake, my current view, shown below. The view is my primo-perk!
• UTILITIES--ok, I have to admit after my few days/nights parked (sans power) under the canopy of a DC hotel for the NAEHCY conference, I no longer take electricity for granted. My "current" spot offers not only power but water. It's been so long since I've had a direct water hook-up that I almost miss the sound of the pump.
• CHEAP GAS--I know we pay for gas, and Tillie's high-octane footprint pains me. But so do artificially inflated gas prices that make a select few rich. On the way down here I encountered something I haven't seen since the beginning of my journey--gas for $1.96 a gallon (when using the gas card provided by my former Joliet student and friend Karen). I felt like I was stealing gas.
• PEACE--It's an internal and external experience. The quiet and beauty of this setting does a lot to affect my internal peace of mind. OK, so does the result of our presidential election. I have a glimmer of hope.
• MISC.--level counts for a lot! And easy access to propane refills and a dump. Toss in quality grocery stores nearby.
  

What RV perks do you hold dear?

August??!! You gotta be kidding!

I'm not an obsessive blogger, but when I found my latest RV blog was August I realized that I lost about 6 weeks somewhere in my crazy life. Gosh, hadn't I written ANYTHING??? since then???

A trickle of a memory started to come back--yes, you dork, you started a blog post about the kids who washed your gross RV. Oh yeah, I remember....and finished it.

Besides being on overload prior to my IL departure on October 7, I have an excuse for such lapses. My Dad died a week ago today, on 10/10. He was 88 and had lived a full life. The cancer and dementia was too much to overcome. It's a relief for all of us.

Bill was a funny guy--humorous and unconventional. He bought a camper--I vaguely remember it--back in the 60s. Mom said he just decided that it could be a good portable showroom for his gift business and bingo, he drove up to Indiana to get it.

I didn't see any pix of it as family rummaged through old photos in preparation for the memorial service. That would have been priceless. I guess he didn't keep it long. It probably proved to be a tad unwieldy as he lugged it behind his snazzy Cadillac.

Dad would always let you know if he approved of your choices, even if you didn't want/need his approval. When I was shaping my plan for HEAR US, my unconventional nonprofit venture to call attention to homeless families, I decided the only way to really do this was to get an RV, thus Tillie was purchased.

I didn't ask his blessing--or advice for that matter. I did talk to Mom about it and although she thought perhaps this was a little extreme, she stood back to let me follow my game plan. My first visit to their Atlanta area home three years ago was part of my maiden voyage--a learning experience to learn how to drive this big bus and to figure out the ABCs of RV camping.

My first state park was in Alabama (pix is the same park--Wind Creek). I drove westward out of Atlanta, watching the sky darken as I raced to get to the park. As I neared the park Mom called and said they figured I was heading right into a band of nasty weather and that tornado warnings had been issued. She said Dad told me to head for a hotel. Yeah, right.

I managed to land on the site, figured out (sort of) the plug-in system, try in vain to hook up the hose, and sure enough the tornado siren wailed. Now what? my naive self thought.

I stuck my head out the door and the people in the next site hollered over to follow them to the bath house, a slightly sturdier--concrete block--structure not too far away. Not grabbing anything except my cell phone I headed over.

About 8 of us huddled together. A wise traveler brought a weather radio. The counties where the warning was in effect were listed. I was clueless as to the name of the city, much less the county. Some wiser person knew our county, and yes, we were included. In fact, a tornado had been sighted in our general area.

Yikes! All I could picture was Tillie floating in the adjacent lake. I'd have to call family for help. NO!!! Can't do that!

After about an hour we figured the danger was over and meandered back to our campers. It was dark--power failure--so I didn't see the knee-deep puddles between me and Tillie. I trudged on, happy not to have to call home.

The moral of the story--pay some attention to weather and if you have to abandon ship, figure out what you should take with you. Let me suggest a flashlight. And pay attention to the name of the county you're staying in.

How did Dad know the storm was so close to where I was heading?! He didn't seem to be paying attention to my travel plans. I guess it's a Dad-thing. I'll miss those moments...and other endearing traits of his.

I will try to be more attentive to my blogs. Yeah, right!