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Sponge baths are usually for sick people, not for scuzzy 27' RVs.
But at the end of September a group of 16-year-old girls swarmed around Tillie, armed with buckets of water with some good ol' Shaklee Basic H and rags, transforming my bug, dirt and moss covered home/office into a pristine palace, well, maybe not a palace...but pristine.
The crew belonged to GOALS, which stands for Give Offer Advocate Love Serve. They play soccer with the Tri-Cities Strikers' club in Geneva/St. Charles, IL. Their parent moderator arranged this opportunity--one which left me with a clean vehicle and gave me the chance to share the HEAR US documentary, My Own Four Walls, kids talking about what it's like to be homeless.
I wonder what it's like to be from an affluent community and watch 20 minutes of kids just like them talk about not having a place to call home.
Fortunately these girls have parents who work to provide opportunities for service, something that the girls have enthusiastically embraced. My hopes are that they take the nugget of information shared during our RV wash party and figure out how they can help ease this growing condition.
None of them batted an eye when we told them we'd wash Tillie with buckets, no hoses. Others would have said it was impossible. I have proof to the contrary! Of course, that proof will wash away as rains drop from the skies.
A side note--my favorite cleaning product--Shaklee's Basic H--was the only cleanser I had on hand for this, er, party. I had about 8 oz. left in my bottle. We used not even 1/2 of that to get the job done without harming hands, Tillie or the environment!
Can't wait to go back for a re-wash!
For the past 3 years I've been caught boasting about only needing 10-15 minutes to clean the inside of this tin house. My standards aren't the highest, or lowest.
As I'm 2 months away from hitting the road again, I realize I need to do some inside house cleaning and whittling down stuff.
It amazes me, even with a concerted effort, how stuff accumulates. I could go on and on about paper--my office space runneth over. But it's more than just paper. It's electronics from gadgets gone by, brown paper bags from Trader Joe's and Whole Foods that I fail to remember to reuse, someone's (who else could we be talking about?) clothing that hasn't been touched in 3 years, ditto for shoes, and "survival" gear that is so deeply imbedded in Tillie's bowels that I'd probably die trying to get to it.
So, my publicly stated game plan is to pick a spot a week--basement, bedroom, living room, etc.--and clear it out. I need to be in a purge state of mind. After all, why carry extra weight? This may be easier than shaving pounds off my body!
Sometimes it's good to de-comfort one's self to recalibrate a sense of appreciation. Tonight is that night for me.
Complications forced me out of my summer campground and onto a parking lot for a night. Knowing it's temporary and knowing I have it good otherwise, I'm here, but I'm hot.
I'm trying to be low-key, knowing it's not a parking lot like WalMart, so I'm technically not suppose to stay here. I am hoping for a night where I don't get disturbed by the rap-rap on Tillie's door telling me to move. I don't do well going from a solid sleep to driving.
My deep appreciation for a breeze, even a warm one, is top on my mind right now. I'm trying to not appear to be here--thus opening the shade to open the window is a no-no. I've cheated a bit, and figure I am probably more obvious than I would guess. Going to sleep will be the test, because where I'm parked determines how liberally I can invite in the cool air.
I'm whining. People with much less than me have much more to complain about. People on the streets have no privacy, no safety. Families in crappy, air-condition-less motels that take all their limited money have something to whine about. Not me, not tonight. Tomorrow I can whine about battery power.
I spent some time with my folks who live in a nice retirement community near Atlanta. I flew down, leaving Tillie in the capable hands of my friend, Sr. Helen, who arranged a great spot for me to park this summer.
After selling my townhouse almost 3 years ago and living full-time in this 27' RV, I am amazed at how this compact space suits me.
The bedroom I stayed in at my parents' home has more than twice the square footage as I do in Tillie. I'd rather have less space. We don't need what we think in order to have a comfortable life.
So, despite the skyrocketing gas prices, Tillie and I will band together to take the HEAR US mission everywhere we can.
Nothing like weather to remove the "them" and "us" barriers. The heat and storms of June in Illinois make me want to escape. Where to? Alaska?? With gas at $4 a gallon, let's see, that would be expensive, mosquito-enhanced cooling.
Air conditioning isn't my favorite comfort, though I can appreciate it on days/nights like this when the inside temperature at 10:00 pm is 85 (and I'm counting my blessings that the next round of storms haven't rolled through forcing me to close my windows). Trouble with RVs (at least cheap ones) is that the AC units are NOISY and suck propane by the tankful.
Seems to me RV manufacturers are a few paces behind the environmentally-conscious needs of consumers like me. Things you don't think of when buying an RV...I was clueless 3 years ago when I was contemplating this little venture.
My temporarily technology-impaired self (the heat has a big something to do with it) is pondering an internet search for smaller AC units--portable, not noisy. But not tonight.
I'll sweat it out, complaining to anyone who wants to listen, knowing that many people don't have the comforts I have. Without getting outside of this country's borders to the disaster-ravaged areas around the world...we can look under our bridges, in abandoned buildings, or in the millions of over-priced, substandard housing units that people call "home" and find people way worse off than me.
Ever eat the wrong thing and suffer in your intestines because of it? That's kind of the sense I have about life in Tillie the tin-tent turtle.
Last week my good friend--and (real tent) camping buddy--Helen and I took off for northern Wisconsin for vacation. We chose to use Tillie despite the $4 a gallon gouging hitting the Memorial Day holiday travelers.
Our choice wasn't made ignorant of environmental concerns, but weighing the overall benefits/shortcomings of RV travel in this day and age where nothing is simple.
We were glad for our choice except when we stopped to fill up. Even then we knew we could afford the gas--albeit painfully--when some people who don't have adequate income can't afford to get to work AND pay rent.
After decades of camping in the wilds of the Boundary Water Canoe Area in northern Minnesota, Helen and I have succumbed to the comforts of warmth, indoor plumbing, and real chairs. We both can't believe we're there--but we are.
Lest readers who don't know better think we're complete wusses, we played disc golf like 39-year-old puppies, hiked with a vengeance, biked for miles, and wrestled ticks as we sought to spend every minute possible outside.
We don't know if that was our last pleasure trip in this HEAR US mobile office (I personally pay the loan payments, insurance, upkeep, etc., and we paid gas from our own pockets). We just know it was an awesome trip!
Highly recommended--Copper Falls State Park, and Highbridge Disc Golf complex.
Check back. As I have time I'll share a fascinating comparison with our camping 20 years ago and today.
Happy motoring. Yeah, right.
The slanted and eroded gravel pads weren't worth using, even if the picnic table wasn't sprawled across it. (Do maintenance staff ever think that the last thing a late-arriving camper wants to deal with, especially in rain or other bad weather, is moving a picnic table that weighs slightly less than an elephant?!)
Tired would be the best word for it, though neglected would also work. The last campground I stayed at, NY's Chenango Valley State Park, a potentially beautiful spot, was so-so.
The ambivalent rating would be attributed to the general un-maintained campgrounds and RV essentials--especially the dump area. Then my pet peeve--no recycling. No hosts were apparent to me. Ill-placed garbage bin provided feeding opportunities for squirrels. Bone-jarring potholes. No signage to guide people out and minimal to get newbies in.
State parks undoubtedly are feeling budget crunches, and probably have for sometime, despite a short period of many states being flushed with cash. Those boon times are now bust times, and I fear that if state parks continue to ignore their charges we all will be the worst for it.
What do people see in other areas? What states do a good job?
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