It was not a sudden decision:
it was a sudden departure.
We have talked for years
about the possibility of buying
a small camping trailer,
not for long trips up Arizona rivers
to their source in a sand dune near Nogales,
but for a night or two not far from home.
I have been adamant:
long stays in a mini-home
make me smell bad and act badly.
So does almost everything else.
Our adventure began with an attempted robbery.
Mari began poking around for something easily within the towing capability of my current pickup. I had traded my old Super Duty F-250 Ford for a sub duty Toyota Tacoma. that is something like the difference between being able to tow an elephant or an elf. She found, online, a small, used, Airstream, stored in Iowa. "Wow! Wow!", we said. The details are not important: it was a scam. No such trailer. No such woman in Iowa, now vacating in Arizona. No such home address in Iowa: well, there was, but it was in repossession. The Bank said it was a scam, too. So did E-Bay.
Then . . . ("Then" is an appreciable amount of time) Mari found a little used Casita for sale in Seattle. Seattle is on the near side of the moon. "So it is!", Mari agreed, "but our new granddaughter is in Portland, and Portland is very close to the moon.", so we drove to Seattle, nearly sleepless. Not really. We took our time.
No, we didn't.
We bought it, have had all the systems checked and have been assured that we have a fine, little trailer. I wish I had paid more for the inspection. Then we might have been assured that we have a very fine little trailer, indeed! But the difference is hard to see. For a nine-year-old, it looks good, and it tows wonderfully well.
Our first outing will be with Troy and Susan to Patagonia Lake, a little later this autumn. They have also found a small camping trailer. The "Patagonia" in Patagonia Lake is not the Patagonia at the southern tip of South America. We would not be able to drive that far, anyway. Donald Trump is going to build a wall that Mexico is going to pay for just south of our Patagonia Lake, and from there both east and west right into the oceans. And the Canadians will probably build a wall to keep previous American immigrants from moving up there.
This has nothing to do with beer and a sizzling steak next to a lake or a stream, but the resurgence of The Know Nothing Party is making life difficult, not really for all immigrants--that's all of us--but for whomever the most recent immigrants are.
And since my father was born in Norway, I agreed it was only wise of us to have a little camping trailer ready for the move back to Norway, should we be deported.
it was a sudden departure.
We have talked for years
about the possibility of buying
a small camping trailer,
not for long trips up Arizona rivers
to their source in a sand dune near Nogales,
but for a night or two not far from home.
I have been adamant:
long stays in a mini-home
make me smell bad and act badly.
So does almost everything else.
Our adventure began with an attempted robbery.
Mari began poking around for something easily within the towing capability of my current pickup. I had traded my old Super Duty F-250 Ford for a sub duty Toyota Tacoma. that is something like the difference between being able to tow an elephant or an elf. She found, online, a small, used, Airstream, stored in Iowa. "Wow! Wow!", we said. The details are not important: it was a scam. No such trailer. No such woman in Iowa, now vacating in Arizona. No such home address in Iowa: well, there was, but it was in repossession. The Bank said it was a scam, too. So did E-Bay.
Then . . . ("Then" is an appreciable amount of time) Mari found a little used Casita for sale in Seattle. Seattle is on the near side of the moon. "So it is!", Mari agreed, "but our new granddaughter is in Portland, and Portland is very close to the moon.", so we drove to Seattle, nearly sleepless. Not really. We took our time.
No, we didn't.
We bought it, have had all the systems checked and have been assured that we have a fine, little trailer. I wish I had paid more for the inspection. Then we might have been assured that we have a very fine little trailer, indeed! But the difference is hard to see. For a nine-year-old, it looks good, and it tows wonderfully well.
Our first outing will be with Troy and Susan to Patagonia Lake, a little later this autumn. They have also found a small camping trailer. The "Patagonia" in Patagonia Lake is not the Patagonia at the southern tip of South America. We would not be able to drive that far, anyway. Donald Trump is going to build a wall that Mexico is going to pay for just south of our Patagonia Lake, and from there both east and west right into the oceans. And the Canadians will probably build a wall to keep previous American immigrants from moving up there.
This has nothing to do with beer and a sizzling steak next to a lake or a stream, but the resurgence of The Know Nothing Party is making life difficult, not really for all immigrants--that's all of us--but for whomever the most recent immigrants are.
And since my father was born in Norway, I agreed it was only wise of us to have a little camping trailer ready for the move back to Norway, should we be deported.
So excited. Now we have a place to sleep if we come to visit you.
ReplyDeleteLet us see if I can activate the air conditioner.
ReplyDelete