Ron & Brenda’s Great Adventure

Chapter 4

So here it is, end of May, one week before Memorial Day, house is ready to go “live” on the real estate market, and Brenda suggests it’s time for us to take the trailer out of storage and go away for a week. “Let’s go to Coos Bay (Oregon)”, she says. “Larry suggested we go there!” And because his Morro Bay suggestion worked out really well, I thought: What the heck? So we made our plans that included reservations at an RV resort that overlooks the ocean. What could be better then that?

Well . . . . a few days before we left, the entire West Coast was targeted by a series of storms. We got about 4 inches of rain the day before we left for Oregon, and more was promised into the following week – including the Oregon coast. High winds were also predicted, which didn’t sound too inviting in a trailer located next to the ocean.

But hey, what’s life about if you’re not all in! Right?! If we’re planning to live in our trailer full time, we will experience bad weather; we’ll try to avoid it, but storms happen anytime, anywhere, so we might as well learn to deal with it, or change our plans for the future.

So we decided to move forward. Remembering our trip to Indio in January of this year, see Chapter 1 to refresh your memory, I prepared for a deluge while I hooked up the trailer on the day we were leaving. I put my rain boots, a rain slicker and a hat in the garage, so I wouldn’t forget to put them on. It rained heavily the day before, and I was ready for the rough weather. However, the next day – departure day – the weather was partly sunny with nary a drop of rain in sight. Oh, well! Better to be prepared!

So we finished loading and hooking up the trailer and locked up the house, believing that the real estate agents were planning an open house while we were gone. But as I drove away I saw a message flash on the truck’s instrument panel, telling me that the left turn signal light on the trailer was faulty.

Only two hundred yards and it starts!

So I pulled over and checked the trailer lights, and sure enough, the left turn signal wasn’t flashing. Not wanting to have to make only right turns or to test the observation skills of the highway patrol, I drove over to the local RV repair shop to see if they could take care of it. I told the counter guy it was probably a bad bulb, but we both decided that I should bring the offending bulb in so he could match it with the correct one. So I went back out to remove the lens over the bulb – ordinarily a simple task that is hardly worthy of mention. Right!? Turned out that there was no obvious way to remove the red lens; no screws were anywhere in evidence, just two tab things that looked like they needed to be pushed in to release the cover. But they weren’t moving, so I went back inside for help – showing just how desperate I was, wanting to get on the road for the 6 ½ hour trip and asking for help a mere 10 minutes after trying to figure it out. As luck would have it, the mechanic was in the store and he came out to take a look. When he tried to push in the locking tabs, as I had already discovered, he learned that they were not moving. So we both worked on it and finally got the lens removed. I was then able to remove the offending bulb, get a new one, install it, check that it worked, replace the lens and hit the road. Only a half hour and $3.00 later.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, with some really beautiful scenery along the way.

The RV park is, as advertised, right next to the ocean, but behind sand dunes and trees that promised to provide some protection from winds coming off the ocean. Setup was easy and Brenda made pizza from scratch for dinner, along with a bottle of Merlot – thank you Dianne and Lawren – a beverage we hadn’t had in a while. Wine, that is. Just not drinking as much as we used to.

The next day, Saturday, I made my usual spectacular breakfast (if I do say so) consisting of thin sliced pan fried potatoes (baby yukons), cut up bacon added to the potatoes, over-easy eggs – all served in a bowl with the eggs on top, toast from a wonderful seeded batard bread that I discovered at Mariposa Market in Willits, and freshly ground coffee. This breakfast has become a weekly tradition in our house, and the second half of the tradition is Sunday breakfast that’s Brenda’s specialty: lox and bagel sandwiches, homemade blueberry scones, coffee and the Sunday paper.

One of the important things that I look for wherever we camp is a good radio station. At home, I have the radio tuned to the local classic rock station, and I always look for a similar station wherever we go. Usually they’re not available, except in Indio I found something close; a station from Palm Springs that featured music from the Frank Sinatra era. But this station in Coos Bay – 105.9 FM if you’re interested and in the neighborhood – is constant old tunes from the 60’s and 70’s. So we spent a lot of time listening to the music and reading or writing.

Anyway, after breakfast we put on our rain boots and slickers and walked to the beach in the rain, about 100 yards from our camp site. The waves were pretty active, and several surfers were taking the waves. On the beach, we came across an interesting artifact, and we decided it was the wreckage of a raft that had been washed ashore after carrying illegal immigrants from North Korea! Well it coulda’ been!

After looking around for survivors, or enemy agents, we went back to the truck and drove a short distance down the coast road to a vantage point that overlooked the seal/sea lion/elephant seal rookery. The sea coast is more rugged here than in Mendocino county. Beautiful country.

Today, Sunday, is a nice day; sunny and warm, so we decided to take a ride north about 80 miles to Newport where Jonathan and Helene want to visit, and on the way we spotted another RV resort that was right on the beach. It looked nice so I did a quick u-turn and drove in for a look-see. They’ve only been open for about a year and still getting set up, but the spaces were well placed and roomy, with spectacular views of the bay. They also have cabins and Airstream trailers that are rented to guests.

Continuing on our way up 101, with views that just got better at every curve in the road, we were intrigued by signs along the way that warned we were either entering or leaving a tsunami zone, as the road rose and dipped.

Keep an eye on them waves!

We had not spent much time in Oregon, but southern, coastal Oregon is simply beautiful. We drove through a small town called Florence in time to be enmeshed in a parade. It was the Rhododendron Festival and four lane Highway 101 had the two south bound lanes closed for the marchers. All traffic used the two north bound lanes with one lane each going north and south. So as we slowly drove north the parade marched right next to us going south. There were 5, count ’em, 5 marching bands of high school and middle school kids, and the bands each had at least 30 kids! There was even a float from the Friends of LGBTQ in the parade. I yelled my appreciation to one of the firefighters on duty for the trouble they went to to set up a parade for us. How’d they know we were gonna be there today?

Newport is a lovely little town with a lot of interesting buildings and seafood restaurants, so we stopped for a late lunch of clam chowder, fried oysters and onion rings on the outdoor patio. Life is good!

Never had clam chowder with a pat of butter on top. Unsurprisingly, it was good!

After lunch we wandered around the town and the waterfront, taking in the sights:

This is a sample of the views – from the bluff a short walk from the restaurant.

The trip took about 2 ½ hours each way so I was a little wasted when we got back to the trailer. But after I closed my eyes for about 15 minutes in my lounge chair, Brenda dragged me out again to take a walk on the beach as the sun set. What a pest! So bundled up with layers we set forth, again. The ocean and sky were beautiful with that constant white noise surf that was so relaxing, and walking on the packed sand inside the tide line was way easier than walking on concrete. This is something I could get into. I insist that we must have walked about 20 miles, but Brenda said it was only about 1 mile. Whatever it was, I can get used to this.

Living in a trailer is full of new and exciting learning experiences: up ’til now, we have spent most of our time in the southern parts where it was relatively warm, and we rarely needed to turn on the furnace in the trailer. But this time the nights were chilly and damp, and I spent the first two nights trying to tough it out when we got into bed. I just wasn’t getting warm, and around 2 am on the second night, I finally decided to turn on the heat. If anything, I am a slow learner! And what do you know?!, it worked, and I was able to get to sleep. Everything was okey dokey until a few days later when Brenda turned on the stove to make her morning oatmeal, and the flame didn’t light. I then noticed that it seemed to have cooled down in the trailer as well, so putting the two things together, I came to the conclusion that the propane tank was empty. So I put on my rain gear and went outside to switch from the empty tank to the full one. Fortunately, I have two large propane tanks on board so flipping a switch was all it took. But that led me to realize that something better was needed, so I ordered a switch that automatically closes the empty tank and opens the full one.

The next few days were filled with exploring the area for other camping opportunities, taking in the variety of beautiful scenery, and eating seafood!

We drove to a small town called Bandon, about 30 miles from our camp site, and walked around the town’s boardwalk, after lunch, which consisted, of course, of clam chowder and fish and chips. The town is located just inside a narrow harbor entrance that tends to silt up, which effectively ended the commercial fishing industry out of there. However, many private boats still use the harbor and the harbor master, who we met, has done a good job of making the harbor area a nice place to visit. There’s a pier that you can walk to where you’re able to drop a crab pot in the bay.

This is a shot I had to take, exhibiting the interest in making a visit to Bandon a safe and pleasurable experience. The life jacket station is supplied by several local businesses, and as the sign points out, the life jackets are available to borrow while touring the pier. You can see the crab fishing pier in the background.

Nearby was another coastal park that had some interesting views and features, including informative signs. One was a local map that showed the areas that were in the tsunami zone, and where one should go in the event.

Another was a statue of a puffin that was made from plastic items that had been gathered in the ocean by volunteers.

Looking closely at the piece reveals some of the things that were used to make it, including flip-flops, plastic combs, belts, bottles, etc. The graphic sign that’s erected next to it, unfortunately too small to be able to read on this page, describes the hazards of plastic waste that finds its way into the oceans, and how important it is to prevent that from happening.

Some more of the spectacular coastal scenery in the area, that the photos can’t begin to show properly.

The next day, the day before leaving to return home, we decided to stay close to camp, so we took a short drive to a mansion that had been given to the state after the death of the owner. It was located on a spectacular cliff that overlooked the ocean, with the waves crashing on the rocks right below us. One feature of the estate was a formal garden that contained some of the biggest, brightest colorful flowers I had ever seen. We’ve learned that gardens in mild coastal areas benefit from the cool, moist air, producing plants that are rarely seen in the hotter inland areas. The Japanese water garden was the crown jewel of the property.

This trip was just a taste – one week long – but enough of a taste to convince us that we will be spending a lot of time in this area. The year round climate seems to be fairly mild with about the same amount of rain as we get in Willits, and fairly moderate temperatures; not too hot or too cold.

Ron & Brenda’s Great Adventure

Chapter 3.2

Okay, this isn’t specifically about a road trip, but more about the information that supports the trips; thus Chapter 3.2 which is the logical successor to Chapter 3.1, which is also a background building information offering. There is actually a Library of Congress type of logic to the numbering system!

FYI, we will be taking a trip in May to Coos Bay Oregon, and I will be writing about that using chapter number 4 as the logical successor to Chapter 2. Chapter 4 because, as you can see, Chapter 3 is already taken.

So anyway, I wanted to fill the vacuum created by my lack of blog posts by talking about some of the mechanical/technical stuff that’s associated with schleping a large travel trailer around. Stuff I never knew before, but learned as we have been RVing.

In an earlier chapter, I briefly spoke about the different types of RVs available, and I’m sure you remember I told you that we opted to buy a 30 foot travel trailer; the type that hooks on to a ball hitch located at the rear bumper of my truck. I thought you might be interested in learning about how it all works, and how one avoids some of the inherent perils that accompany this activity.

The photo below shows the back of the truck as it is positioned ready to hook on to the trailer. On the right is the back truck bumper with the ball hitch sticking out. You have all seen these things on trucks and cars, and have even had the pleasurable experience of smacking your shin into the hitch. In the photo, the ball of the hitch is positioned just below the trailer tongue/hitch receiver that fits over the ball. At the moment, the trailer is raised slightly higher than the ball, allowing me to place the ball under the trailer hitch.

On a side note, this is always one of the most frustrating and tedious parts of hooking up, because while sitting behind the wheel of the truck, one can’t actually see the ball and the hitch to get them placed perfectly. Usually it requires another person to direct the driver: “back up just a little; No, no, too much. Forward a bit! Too much, and move it to the right just a touch. No, I meant the left!” And so on. You get the idea.

But my truck – and many like them – is equipped with a backup camera, which in my opinion is the greatest invention of all time, aside from modern cataract surgery. (See Chapter X). The backup camera is located on the top center of the truck tailgate, and gives me a perfect view of the ball hitch and everything behind it. A large screen in the dashboard of the truck allows me to see exactly where the ball is in relation to the trailer hitch so I can maneuver the truck to place the ball in the right spot. Occassionaly I’m able to back up to place the ball exactly under the hitch, but often I need to climb out of the truck to see what minor adjustments are required. But for the most part, positioning the truck is very quick and easy.

With the ball located directly under the hitch, I then lower the hitch onto the ball by retracting the tongue jack. That’s the silver tube thingy under the trailer frame. I then engage the locking mechanism that locks the hitch onto the ball. It’s designed so the trailer hitch rotates over the ball when I make a turn, and the ball is greased to make it easier to do.

Next is the anti-sway bar. There are two sorta’ major concerns when towing a trailer: 1) is the fact that it’s almost impossible to drive in a perfectly straight line. There’s always some sort of force that tries to mess with the track of the vehicles. It could be the routine adjustments to the steering that we make when driving; something that’s barely noticable when driving our car or truck, and there’s always a slight weaving in the traffic lane as we drive. Passing trucks cause your vehicle to move slightly, and swerving to avoid a pothole are also things that tend to move your vehicle off track. Most of the time, these actions don’t pose a problem, but when towing a trailer, these small movements are magnified. The tow vehicle – my truck – moves to the side, and the trailer follows. Correcting the truck movement will pull the trailer in the opposite direction, building the movement until eventually the trailer begins to whip back and forth, possibly dragging the truck off the road

The second concern when towing a trailer is proper distribution of the weight generated by the trailer resting on the back of the truck. Without a trailer attached to the truck, the truck will sit fairly flat on the road surface, with an equal amount of weight being supported by the front and the rear tires. But connecting the trailer to the truck changes this dynamic. My trailer weighs about 9,000 pounds fully loaded, and the trailer axles are placed just behind the center of the trailer so that about 10% of the trailer’s weight is resting on the hitch. That’s about 900 pounds for those of you who are mathematically challenged! This extra weight on the back of the truck will cause the truck to sit lower in the back and higher in the front, with less weight on the front wheels, and the front wheels – the wheels that steer the truck – can’t properly control the truck if there isn’t enough weight on them.

There are several ways to deal with this problem: one is to install air bags over the rear axles that, when inflated with air, will lift the back end of the truck, thus placing more weight over the front wheels. Another method is using the anti-sway/weight distribution bar, as depicted in the photos.

There are two “L” shaped bars, one on each side, with the short leg having a notch near the end. The short end is inserted into a hole on one side of the ball hitch assembly, and the notch locks it in place. This end of the bar is greased to allow the bar to rotate inside the hitch when making turns. The long end of the bar is flattened, and it fits over the “L” shaped brackets that are bolted to the trailer tongue. In order to place the bar over the bracket, I must crank the trailer tongue higher than usual. At the correct height, I’m able to easily slip the bar over the bracket and hold it in place with a removable stop that keeps the bar from sliding off the bracket. That’s the small silver thing. With both bars resting on their brackets, and secured in place, I can then lower the trailer fully onto the truck ball hitch, raising the tongue jack into its storage position. With the weight of the trailer on the truck hitch ball, the two anti-sway/weight distribution bars actually lift the rear of the truck, placing more weight over the front wheels. That’s the weight distribution component; just like the air bags that I mentioned earlier.

The second component – anti-sway – is accomplished because the bars are now under a certain amount of spring tension. It’s the bars that are lifting the rear of the truck, and the weight of the truck is, naturally, pressing down on the bars that are in turn pressing down on the brackets that are attached to the trailer tongue. The bars are designed to flex, not break, hopefully, and this action causes friction between the bars and the brackets that support them whenever the truck and trailer turn in relation to each other. Think about the movement that I referenced earlier, like when the truck swerves. When this happens, the truck and trailer are no longer traveling in a straight line, and there is a slight bending with the hitch/ball acting as the pivot point. When this happens, the effect is for the bar support brackets to move in relation to the bars, with the bars sliding over the brackets. Because the bars are under spring tension on the brackets, there is a certain amount of friction – steel rubbing on steel – and this slows or prevents the buildup of the sway that would occur without the dampening effect.

The end result is a relatively stable ride without having the truck/trailer combination swerving all over the road.

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The Vision Thing

Chapter X

This is Chapter X of the RV Adventures of Ron & Brenda; X because, strictly speaking, it’s outside of the story of our RV experience, but it plays a significant role in our travels. And, because I wanted to share this part of the story with those I care about.

The image above is, as labeled, a rendering of the anatomy of the eye, and because this chapter involves my eyes, I thought it would be helpful to include a visual reference:

Like many folks who reach a certain age, and like many of you have already experienced, I was diagnosed with cataracts in both eyes, and it was recommended that I have them taken care of. So I did! In the process, I learned a lot about cataracts, such as:

• Cataracts are a natural part of the aging process, with about 24.4 million Americans having a cataract in at least one eye.
• The cornea and the lens bend and focus the light that enters your eye, focusing it on the retina at the back of the eye. The retina interprets the light as an image and sends it to your brain. That process is vision.
• As we age, the lens becomes cloudy, making it harder for the light to reach the retina. This is a cataract. I had always thought that a cataract was something like a film that formed on top of the lens, not the lens itself becoming cloudy, and the cataract operation somehow removed this film from the lens.
• Treating the cataract involves removing the lens and replacing it with an artificial lens. The artificial lens works like a permanent contact lens, and can be designed to give you near sight, far sight or a combination. It can even be designed to correct an astigmatism.

This last part – about replacing my natural lens with an artificial lens, something that I was not aware of – was a truly exciting part of the whole process. I understood that my vision was cloudy because of the cloudy lens, and that the blurriness would go away after the surgery, but I was surprised, and pleased, to learn that my vision could actually be improved, in addition to eliminating the cloudiness, by having the surgery.

Being naturally curious, I went on line and found a ton of videos that showed actual cataract operations, to understand what I was getting in to. And after viewing the videos, I still decided to go ahead with the surgery!

Here’s where the yuck factor comes in. If you’re squeamish, it’s okay to close your eyes or avert your gaze as you read this!

As the picture at the top of the page depicts, the lens is covered and protected by a clear membrane called the cornea, and in order to get to the lens to remove it, the surgeon makes a small cut on the side of the cornea. He then fills the space behind the cornea with a liquid that sort of expands the cornea, giving him room to work. He then inserts an instrument through the cut and breaks up the lens and removes it from where it has sat since the day you were first formed. He then inserts the new, artificial lens, centering it precisely behind the pupil, and that’s pretty much it! The whole procedure takes about 15 minutes, and I was awake for the whole thing. We even had a conversation, with the doctor telling me what he was doing.

The whole idea of having work done on my eye has always been something I had trouble getting my mind wrapped around. I mean, we have all had some sort of medical procedure, ranging from getting shots to having stitches or wounds treated, and for me, I usually don’t watch the procedure; not so much because I am squeamish, but because I didn’t want to involuntarily jerk away from the needle or suture, thereby causing damage. Okay, sometimes it was because I didn’t want to watch my flesh being accosted! And naturally, it’s kinda difficult to close your eyes when that’s what’s being worked on. But I discovered that numbing agents and other anesthetics are truly wondrous things; they almost make me feel like a superhero: do what you want with me, I won’t feel a thing!

And let’s face it, if you know you won’t feel pain, you can deal with almost anything. After several years of having my eyes injected with a magic potion to deal with macular degeneration every few months, I learned to see it coming without flinching. So I wasn’t particularly concerned about the cataract procedure. In fact, I had discovered that the anticipation is usually worse than the reality.

So after a discussion with the surgery consultant, I decided that I would prefer to have the new lens give me distance vision, with the understanding that I would need reading glasses for close work. At that point, I had no specific idea of what my new vision would be like, and they weren’t able to describe it for me, except to say it would be better.

Cataract formation is a gradual process over many, many years, and it’s so gradual that you often don’t even notice that your vision is deteriorating. Things had grown slightly blurry over the years, but I put that down to not being able to nail down the proper lens correction with my eyeglasses. I didn’t know how exact the measuring process is, so I decided that good enough was the best I could expect. But in the weeks leading up to the surgery, and with the new awareness of my vision, I began to take notice of how everything I looked at was slightly blurry, and I began to anticipate how it would be post-op.

I had an appointment to “do” my right eye at noon on March 19^th. I opted for a later appointment because the surgeon is located in Santa Rosa, a drive of an hour and a half, and I didn’t want to get up at 4 in the morning in order to drive to an early appointment. So noon was a civilized time for me, until I learned that I couldn’t eat anything after dinner the night before. That meant that I wouldn’t be able to eat anything before around 2 pm the next day. (While the actual surgery took only about 15 minutes, the entire pre- and post-op consumed about 2 hours). It was almost like fasting, which has never been my favorite past time.

The pre-op consisted of checking my eye and taking some last minute measurements, then moving me into a small room so I could climb on the gurney to get ready. Getting ready involved signing some forms, having to do with how to dispose of my mortal remains in the unlikely event that something bad happened, as well as my awareness that “all surgeries carry a certain risk, and I fully accepted the risk”. (That wasn’t the exact wording, but the meaning was pretty clear!) The better part was the administering of the numbing drops and the intervenous stuff that was designed to mellow me out; both of which were, for me, vital components of the whole deal. And of course, there was the dorky shower cap that I had to wear, but since I couldn’t see it, it didn’t really matter.

So then, after getting totally mellow – but not unconscious, I was wheeled into the operating room where I was treated to the most sensuous eye scrub I ever had. Well actually, the only eye scrub I ever had. We had to pause so I could smoke a cigarette! My eyelids were clamped open and the rest of my face was covered in a surgical covering, then a very bright light was directed into my eye – probably for a combination of illumination and to give my eye something to focus on. We didn’t want my eye wandering all over the place during surgery, after all!

I could see stuff, but it was mostly just bright light with some dark spots; nothing alarming, and certainly without any pain. I could feel, and kind of see, things happening, but nothing was clear. Finally, I was able to detect something being slipped onto my eye, and I asked the surgeon if that was the new lens, and he told me yes. After some slight adjustments, he told me that we were done, and I was wheeled back to my room, where Brenda had been waiting, and I was offered something to eat and drink. Peanut butter crackers and apple juice.

Not knowing what to expect visually, I asked if they could remove the right lens from my eyeglasses so I would be able to see through the corrective eyeglass lens with my left eye. I was also given a pair of dark glasses to wear over my eyeglasses to protect the eye that had been dilated. As Brenda drove us home, I was able to see fairly clearly through the lens in my eyeglasses and a somewhat blurry view from my right eye, the one that had been operated on. As the evening wore on, I was able to see fairly well, given the blurriness of my right eye, and I didn’t expect anything dramatic until the next morning.

The next morning, I was reluctant to open my eyes, probably to delay discovering how good or bad my vision was. But because I also didn’t need to be walking into things, I finally opened my eyes, and was thrilled to see the mountains in the distance through the bedroom door. My right eye was still a little blurry, but a definite improvement over the day before. I went into the bathroom to do my things, and, as usual, I removed my glasses so I could shave, and for the first time ever, with my glasses off, I could actually see my face in the mirror; it was still a little blurry because my left eye still needed the corrective lens, and my right eye still needed a few days to normalize, but I could see my face about 80% clearly. When I walked into the shower, I was stunned, by how clear and bright everything was.

Over the next several days, the vision in my right eye continued to sharpen, and I soon found that I could actually see better without my glasses, and I was even able to drive without wearing my glasses. I was beginning to really like this!

I had the second surgery scheduled for the following Tuesday, March 26, and the experience was as easy as the first one. Prior to the second surgery, my right eye was examined and it was found to be 20/20.

The recovery for the left eye was just like for the right eye, uneventful, but later in the week after the second surgery I was stopped in my tracks when Brenda and I were taking our walk around the neighborhood. At the cul de sac there is a grove of trees, and as we were walking by I looked at them and realized I was seeing them in 3D. This sounds kind of strange since we actually live in a 3D world. But what I was seeing looked more like one of those 3D postcards, where the scene shifts when you move the card. For the first time that I can remember, I was able to see depth between the two stands of trees, making me realize that until now, my 3D world was actually rather flat.

Marianna had told Brenda that after her cataract surgery, she noticed that colors were so much brighter and vivid. I must admit that for me, the initial focus was on the fact that I could see without my glasses, and I didn’t pay much attention to the increased brightness and stronger colors. But after I had processed the reality of my improved vision, I turned my attention to the fact that things were much brighter, and the colors were more vivid. And, as my surgeon told me, everything was about 17% larger than they had been.

It’s been a few weeks of rediscovery for me; nothing as dramatic as a blind man suddenly regaining his eyesight, but life changing nevertheless! Not having to wear glasses, except for reading, is fine, but the real benefit was the simplifying of my daily tasks; getting out of bed in the morning without fumbling for my glasses, not having to put them on or take them off when shaving, showering or putting on a T shirt. Simple stuff, but nice.

And, I can now buy that cool pair of sunglasses that I’ve always wanted!

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Ron & Brenda’s Great Adventure

Chapter 3.1

Some of our friends and family have been questioning our decision to sell our house and move into our 30 foot trailer full time; that we have taken leave of our collective senses. After all, as I write this, I am about two months away from my 82^nd birthday, and Brenda just turned 80 a few months ago, which is unarguably a time when conventional wisdom decrees that we should, in fact, be settling into a safe environment in which to spend our remaining years. There’s no disagreement with the fact that our physical and mental abilities have been diminishing for quite some time already, and it’s foolish to put ourselves at risk by cutting ties to a home base. Anything can happen as we drive around the country, dragging five tons of instability behind us, but as we’re all aware, bad things can happen to anyone anywhere, at any time.

So what is the issue at the heart of it all?

Brenda and I have spend a considerable amount of time trying to lay out what we want to do for the rest of our lives. We have been doing this forever in a process that our sons call “Mom and Dad Agonizing Over a Decision!” During this process we consider the decision du jour as it relates to a few metrics that we have identified as being an important part of our decision making process: Financial, our Physical Condition and Ability, and our General Health.

The Financial part looks at the amount of money we have and how long it can be made to last, and any amounts of money we can expect to earn, inherit or find laying around on the street.

Aside from the prospect of winning the Publisher’s Clearing House prize – they have been sending me notices of an impending award for months – I don’t foresee a significant windfall in the future.

But we have been able to accumulate a few bucks in our investment portfolio, and being the numbers wonk that I am, I created a spreadsheet that covers the next twenty years, to see if the money would last. I picked twenty years because living to 100 seems like a nice round number and a decent target to shoot for! The spreadsheet lays out an annual budget for each of the 20 years, a task that was made a little easier than it may sound, because Brenda has been preparing a monthly Profit & Loss statement for our personal finances for several years, and I have been posting this information on a spreadsheet, so we have a good idea of how much money we earn and spend. The fun/strange part was trying to project our expenses into the future, for example: how often will we be eating out when we’re in our late 80’s/early 90’s; what will our clothing budget be, doctors expenses, etc.

All of this probably sounds like an OCD exercise, but with a relatively small income and a limited amount of money on hand, watching the pennies is an important part of our lives.

Anyway, back to the Analysis: We sold our first house in Willits for a decent profit, enough to enable us to upgrade to our current, new house with some money left over to invest, but as we age, we realize that this house is bigger than we need, and a lot of effort and expense to keep clean and maintain. There’s still a mortgage involved and as the house gets older, there will be the need to invest more money for repairs and upkeep.

When I did the financial calculations, it became evident that we could sell the house and realize a profit, which would add nicely to our current investment portfolio. Moving into the trailer would result in a net savings over the cost of living in the house, and I plugged all of the future estimated costs into the spreadsheet.

Another section of the spreadsheet is a calculation of how our investment balance would change over the years, considering having to withdraw a certain amount each year to make up for the projected shortfall between our income (mostly Social Security) and our expenses. I created a simple formula that began with a starting amount in the fund, subtracting the amount to be withdrawn each year, and a conservative annual return on our investments, that was based on past growth. And the result was that the money will almost run out when I reach 100, but because Brenda won’t be 100 until a year and a half later, she’ll have to make do with less.

Sorry kiddo!

Actually, I realize that these figures are all rough projections, and a lot can happen over the next few years, let alone 20, but the whole exercise was to see if it is even possible that we can make it work. And given all of the possible variables and the time involved, and the knowledge that we will be adjusting our spending as we go forward, I am confident that we can make it work.

But the key to the whole thing is that we downsize.

If we wanted to, we could simply move into a small apartment and downsize that way, but another factor that we need to consider is where we want to settle down. For about 75% of our lives, Brenda and I have lived on the East Coast, within about 300 miles of where we grew up. During that time we traveled up and down the eastern seaboard, from New England to Florida, and nothing there – sorry – beckons to us. We’ve lived in California for a little more than 21 years, and until recently, have visited only a small part of the West Coast, but we’re pretty certain that we want to live in the west, not the east. We love it in Willits, and can see ourselves living here for the forseeable future – if there was some decent, affordable senior housing – but for now, we need to see what else there is. So instead of renting apartments in various locations, we decided that living in our own home, on wheels, was a pretty good way to find that perfect place.

I’ll write about what it’s like to live in such small quarters another time.

So; Physical Condition and General Health: Like anyone else who has lived for awhile, Brenda and I each have “things” going on with us, but we get regular checkups, fixing or maintaining our general health as required. For the most part, we are both in good health; we are active and mobile, and with some small limitations, we’re pretty much able to do whatever we want. We eat well, get enough sleep and exercise, and keep ourselves mentally active by doing meaningful things: Brenda still has her bookkeeping clients and I just retired after 12 years on the City Council and am about to retire from 12 years on the County Civil Service Commission. Medical science has just announced findings about something we have known for a long time – keeping mentally active helps not only mental capacity but physical abilities as well.

Learning what we need to know about RVing fulfills the medical recommendation of continually learning new skills. I find that tasks such as hooking up the trailer for travel, maneuvering the rig over the road and backing into tight places, and setting up at the camp site are stimulating and challenging both physically and mentally, and I enjoy every part of it. Brenda gets to transfer her skills into making meals in a small space and making a comfortable home in a space that’s smaller than our first apartment, and of course, doing the books. We are constantly exposed to new sights and experiences that take us a bit out of our comfort zone, and I believe we are thriving because of that.

Of course, there will be a time when we find we can no longer keep up the pace, but I expect that it will be a gradual process that we will monitor, deciding to come to roost when the time is appropriate. We will continue to get regular checkups and treatments as required, and I have no expectation that our health will deteriorate dramatically. Of course, accidents happen and can change things in a heartbeat, but we have never lived with a disaster scenerio mentality, and we’re not about to start. Being careful and taking precautions is one thing, but being afraid of life is not worth the effort!

That’s another thing about getting old: “acting your age” is a self-fulling prophecy, and we have known people who decided they were old at age 45, and they became that! That’s not to say that we try to act like we’re 35. We’re not; we don’t pretend to be anything other than who we really are, and we just do stuff until our bodies tell us that we can’t, or shouldn’t.

So bottom line: we have thought this out and walked the walk for over a year, and understand that we like doing this, we can afford to live this life for several years until we go to the next phase, and we will have the opportunity to see and do some interesting things.

My next post will talk about what it’s like to RV

Ron & Brenda’s Great Adventure

Chapter 2

Working backward chronologically, in December, 2018 – Christmas week to be precise – we drove south to Morro Bay, on the California Central Coast about 20 miles north of San Luis Obispo. I asked Brenda what she wanted to do for her birthday – it was her 80^th – and she told me that she wanted to spend a week at Morro Bay. Larry Desmond had told her about the place, and it sounded like a place she wanted to visit.

We left on a Sunday with no drama, because the weather was beautiful, and we were going to stop overnight in Walnut Creek with Avi and Jackie. It was a little less than 300 miles to Morro Bay from Walnut Creek, so it was an easy drive the next day and we arrived at the campground around 4 pm, which is about the latest that I like to get to our destination in order to have time to set up before dark.

The RV park wasn’t as fancy as the one in Indio, but it was very nice, and located a couple of miles from the coast, so it was an easy drive to the ocean.

Morro Bay is a small town with a funky vibe and population of about 10,000. The dominant feature is Morro Rock, El Morro – which is Spanish for crown shaped hill – named in 1542 by Portuguese explorer Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo. Another interpretation for the name was the similarity the rock has to a cap that was worn by the Moors.

Morro Rock is actually one of the smaller of a line of extinct volcanoes formed about 25 million years ago, that includes nine peaks running from San Luis Obispo to Morro Bay, named the Nine Sisters because they’re situated close together, in a row. Contrary to what I originally thought, Morro Rock isn’t the cone of an old volcano, but a plug that was formed in the main lava tube of the volcano. The plug stopped the flow of lava out of the top of the volcano and over time, wind and rain eroded away the sides of the cone until only the plug remained.

The rock is home to several species of birds, including cormorants and peregrine falcons. We weren’t able to spot any falcons but we did see several cormorants and blue herons.

And that kiddies, was the historical/geology lesson for the day! Don’t you feel enriched?!

Because it’s a seafront town, with a fishing fleet, we were compelled to have a fresh fish lunch on the pier. It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it! There were several qualified candidates along the wharf, but we selected one that Brenda had read about in the AAA guide book – The Dockside Restaurant. We were forced to sit at a table that was on the deck next to the water, overlooking Morro Rock and warmed by the afternoon sun.

This was the thing that attracted us to California in the first place; sitting by the ocean just taking it all in. Life has a way of slowing down in a place like that!

Naturally, the food was fresh and delicious and completely enjoyable. It was interesting to note that several people had dogs with them, being permitted because it was a patio and not an inside restaurant. At any rate, the dogs were well behaved and unobtrusive, and everything was mellow. We shared a bowl of clam chowder and a platter of fried oysters that we have adopted as our all time favorite seafood dish, as well as a serving of fries. We also had beer to wash it all down.

The restaurant had a small retail fish store so we bought a 2 ½ pound crab (another of our all time favorite seafood dishes) for dinner that night, back at the trailer. It was probably the meatiest, sweetest and tastiest crab we had ever eaten.

Editor’s note: yesterday, Valentines Day, I bought another 2 ½ pound crab at the fish place in Ukiah; it’s really a tent that’s set up in an empty lot at the south end of town, that’s run by some guys who bring in fresh fish from Noyo Harbor every day. Brenda and I ate the crab for dinner – at home – with a bowl of crab bisque from Costco, fresh faccicio that Brenda just sorta threw together before dinner, and a nice red wine; we didn’t have any white in the house, but you gotta do what you gotta do! The point of the digression is to assert that, in our opinion, with crab, bigger is definitely better, because this was the second time we had a crab that weighed more than 2 pounds, and they were both the best we had ever eaten.

But back to Morro Bay: I was so eager to actually get into it that I neglected to take a picture of the crab before we ate it, but it did occur to us that we needed to pay homage to the little guy before discarding the shells, so the accompanying picture is an artistic composition entitled: “Deconstructed Crustacean”; or “Alas poor Yuric, I knew him well!”

Deconstructed Crustacean

We spent the next few days driving around, exploring the area. One day we drove about 20 miles north to The Piedras Blancas elephant seal rookery, a beach that spreads over six miles of shoreline about 5 miles north of Hearst Castle. The site is supported by an organization called the Friends of the Elephant Seal, and they have constructed a fenced, wheelchair accessible walk that overlooks the beach below. On the overlook, we are directly above the beach, about 20 or 30 feet up, and we are able to comfortably stand there for as long as we want, observing the elephant seals below. There are several docents that circulate among the spectators to explain about what we are seeing.

And what we saw were a bunch of huge male elephant seals behaving badly! I’m here to tell you that there was no political correctness or gender equality on display on the beach that day! They were acting like a bunch of – animals! Horney bulls!

But, that’s nature in the raw, so who am I to judge?

And these guys were huge, with some adult males weighing in at 4,000 to 5,000 pounds!

The elephant seals got our appetites worked up, so we drove a little further north to the Ragged Point Inn where we again had a fresh seafood lunch. At the restaurant we had a view of the south end of Big Sur through an interesting wooden sculpture named: “Portal to Big Sur”.

Back at Morro Bay, we spent some time walking around the Rock, observing the birds and admiring the geological features. We could spend hours just browsing around.

Once again, this was a quick trip that convinced us that this is what we want to be doing for the foreseeable future.

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Ron & Brenda’s Great Adventure

Chapter 1

As promised – or threatened – this is the first installment of our adventures on the road. I’ll write these as frequently as required or appropriate. Feel free to respond on any of the myriad things that are discussed herein.

A brief summary to date will serve to “Set the Stage”:

Brenda and I decided that we were going to spend our twilight years wandering around the country in a fiberglass tube on wheels, visiting many of the places that we had always wanted to see, as well as revisiting places that we visited for brief vacations. We did about a year’s worth of research to learn as much as we could about the RV life that included how to take a shower in a closet! Short story long, we researched the types of RV parks that were available in the places we wanted to visit, the type of equipment in the RV that we would need to lead a close-to-normal existence, and a lot of research on the type of RV that was best for us. As octogenarians, we couldn’t think of a more sensible thing to do except to leave our home and wander aimlessly around the country!

The choices for our new home were: a motor home that is a self-propelled vehicle built on a truck chassis; or one of two types of trailers – 5^th wheel that connects the trailer to a tow vehicle by engaging a hitch that is located in the bed of the truck, kinda like the way a tractor trailer works; or a travel trailer that is towed behind a tow vehicle by attaching to a hitch that is located behind the rear bumper of the tow vehicle. Without going into a lot of detail about the reasoning behind our ultimate choice – although, those of you who would really like to know, contact me and I’ll give you the full description – we settled on a 30 foot travel trailer and a half ton pickup truck (Ford F150) as the tow vehicle for a total tow package length of about 50 feet. Ye haw!

The plan was for Brenda and me to complete our obligations to humanity before “going Full Time”, that entailed selling the house and moving from our 1800 + square foot home into the 346 +/- square foot trailer. Our obligations consisted of me completing my 3^rd term on the city council and the 12 year stint on the county civil service commission, and Brenda slowly setting up her clients with other bookkeeping services. That pretty much happened at the end of 2018, and while the house is not yet sold, we have started our travels on a limited basis.

So far, in 2018 we spent one week in January in Indio, California (near Palm Springs) to watch our granddaughter Rylee (coached by her Dad, our son Avi) play in a huge Lacrosse tournament; and another week in May in Hemet, California (a short distance from Indio) at an RV rally. We spent a long weekend in August attending the Foothills Beer Festival in Grass Valley (in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range) with our friends Dianne and Lawren. At the end of September we left for a 2- ½ week trip to Austin, Texas to attend the Bar Mitzvah of our daughter-in-law Helene’s son Henry, traveling for six days in each direction through California, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas for a total of about 4,000 miles. Exhausting but fun! In December we spent Christmas week in (at?) Morro Bay, a beautiful town on the California Central Coast. And now – late January 2019, we once again drove to Indio for Rylee and Avi’s Lacrosse tournament. We spent a week in Indio and drove 130 miles west to Encinitas (near San Diego) to visit with our grandson Ethan and his lovely Elle, and to deliver my bandsaw and drawing table to Ethan – the last of my tools.

I apologize for starting the story after more than a year on the road, but the past trips are, well, past, so let’s begin in the present, while my memories are still fresh. Maybe later, I’ll conjure up the highlights of our previous trips, but for now . . . We left for Indio on Thursday, January 17, 2019 during a break in a rainstorm of biblical proportions. Fortunately, the rain was slated to end sometime that day, but not until after I had gotten thoroughly soaked. I had the trailer parked in the street next to the house, hooked up to the house electricity to run the refrigerator that contained our food. When I went out to get the trailer ready to hit the road, the water was running heavily in the gutter, but the trailer tires acted like a dam (damn!), backing the water up until it was up to my ankles, right where I needed to be standing!

Being laser-focused on the task at hand, it didn’t occur to me to put on the really great rain boots that were safely stored in the garage where they were nice and dry. It’s not as if it would have been a difficult thing to do, because I walked right past them several times as I squished from the house to the trailer. About 200 miles into the trip, it did actually occur to me that I coulda’ worn the boots, as my feet slowly melted in the wet shoes I was wearing.

But anyway, back to the setup; in order to prevent the trailer battery from overcharging, I shut it off with a disconnect switch, so that only the power coming from the house was supplying electricity to the trailer. Problem was, when I pushed the button to lower the trailer to the truck hitch, it didn’t work because the line coming from the house was dead. I did a quick search and analysis looking for the cause of the power outage, but came up empty. We needed to get going, and I didn’t have time to try to figure out why I had a partial power outage in the house; remember, we were going away for two weeks with the potential of leaving an electrical problem at home. Not a great plan!

Anyway, I turned on the trailer battery and was able to hook up the trailer to the truck.

When parking the trailer, I always put chocks on both sides of the tires, to keep the trailer from rolling away. When I went to retrieve the chocks, I saw that one was missing; it had probably been swept away by the rushing water, and I couldn’t find it anywhere.

That was three! Wet feet, dead electricity, missing chock. As we know, all bad things come in threes, but all was not lost as things began to resolve themselves:

1) My feet did eventually dry out, and I didn’t lose any part of my anatomy. 2) I soon discovered the reason for the electrical outage: it was a circuit breaker on the porch that often trips because a water pump in a fountain in the back yard pops whenever we have a storm. It turned out that the electrical outlet in the garage that powered the trailer was on the same circuit, and that problem was fixed with the pushing of a reset button. And finally, 3) Brenda, who always needs to take a walk even when we need to get on the road, found the wayward tire chock wedged under the wheels of our nextdoor neighbor’s car. So once again, all was right in the world and we could leave in relative comfort that everything was secure and working well.

So after those eventually, minor issues, we were on our way. We drove about 6 ½ hours (about 300 miles) to Lost Hills on I-5 a little north of Bakersfield, where we spent the first night. The rain had stopped by the time we got there, and even though the sandy camp site was wet, it wasn’t too bad and we were able to set up and get all comfy in a short time. We had a nice hot meal for dinner and got to bed early for an early wake-up call. A hot shower in our compact shower stall, followed by a good, quick breakfast, and we were on our way.

As we drove south on I-5 toward LA, the weather cleared up and it got Southern California warm. A beautiful day for a drive. That leg of the trip was a little over 300 miles and it took us through the fringes of LA traffic, so by the time we arrived at the RV Resort (resort – classy huh!?) I was ready to take a quick nap after setting up at the camp site.

That didn’t happen because Brenda has the ridiculous idea that after sitting in the truck for over 6 hours it would be a good idea to take a walk. Go figure! So I dragged my body around the place and admired, and noted all of the nice amenities: nice landscaping, three pools, the exercise room, and all of the expensive RVs which were mostly from Canada.

The Lacrosse team

Saturday and Sunday were the Lacrosse games and it was nice to spend time with Avi and Rylee. Rylee is a senior in high school and the team goalie, and actively being courted by college scouts. Ethan and Elle drove over from San Diego (Encinitas) on Saturday. From Monday until Friday we spent time exploring the area around Indio and Palm Springs. We didn’t drive far, because the previous year when we were there we did drive down to the Salton Sea for a look-see, and I had visited the local air museum which was a guy kinda thing. This time we just chilled and relaxed, because Brenda needed to decompress from her work schedule.

On Friday we packed up and drove toward San Diego to stay at the Santee Lakes park, and to also see Ethan and Elle. On the way we found a pie shop where we simply had to have some pie and coffee. The pie was so good that we bought a caramel/apple pie to take with us. Eating it took most of the week, but we got ‘er done!

The park was established in 1961 to take advantage of several lakes that had been built, to provide recreation opportunities for the public. They did a really nice job, dividing the area into a public park that is used for picnics, concerts, movies and general use by the public, while another section of the park is reserved for RV camping with sites located around the lakes. Our site was right on the lake with the big back window facing the lake, allowing us to sit in our lounge chairs and watch the ducks, pelicans and other birds do their thing(s). We set up our outside lounge chairs next to the lake so we could sit and admire nature while sipping on our favorite beverage du jour.

Not a shabby way to spent time! I will attempt to attach some photos.

Sunset from the back window

We did drive to Encinitas to visit Ethan and Elle and to deliver the tools and drawing board to Ethan, and on Tuesday we took the drive to Coronado (that led to our brief Mexican Adventure). Because Coronado is the home of the Navy fleet and a few other military installations, I thought it would be cool to take a tour of at least the Naval base, so we drove to the end of the ocean front road to the entrance to the Naval base. For several hours, we had walked on the beach that was pretty much fogged in, and every once in a while we heard aircraft approaching. As we scanned the sky we eventually saw Blackhawk helicoptors flying out of the fog, about 100 feet above us. So naturally, I needed to see the source.

I drove up to the gate and was immediately challenged by two Navy guards, who politely, but firmly informed us that this area was not open to the public. I was about to protest that I was a taxpayer and my taxes had paid for this facility, when I did a quick calculation and realized that my taxes probably only paid for the shoelace on his left boot, and invoking taxpayer privilege probably wouldn’t fly. One of the gate guards asked me for my drivers license, which she held until I had turned myself around and headed out the gate.

The Mexican Adventure!

On the way back to Santee Lake, we had the option of returning the way we had come – over the Coronado Bridge – but being the adventurous half of our team, Brenda suggested that we drive south to pick up 805 that would take us back to I-5, avoiding the bridge toll as well. This route would also take us right up to the Mexican border. So south we went, until we were side tracked by a sign that said “Jersey Mike’s Subs”. We didn’t know if these were authentic subs (hoagies for the uninitiated) from New Jersey, that Brenda and I would drive a hundred miles out of the way to get, but we were intrigued enough to do a U-turn and get a sub for dinner. As it turned out, the subs weren’t exactly the same as the ones we got at the Sub Shop in Atlantic City, but close enough.

With the sub safely tucked into our Costco insulated bag – never leave home without it – we continued south, looking for the 805 that would take us home. As we got closer, we began seeing more and more signs warning us that we were approaching an International Border – that would be Mexico, by my calculations! Not to worry, because the 805 was waiting for us, to safely get us home. Finally, we came upon a very large sign with letters about 6 inches high – fairly visible and easy to read – that said: “Last exit in the United States of America”. Pretty specific language, don’cha think?! But because I didn’t see a sign for the 805, I figured that this couldn’t really be the last exit, could it? Brenda spotted a funky road leading off to the left – the direction we wanted to go – and insisted that we take it. But I declined because it just didn’t look right. And there wasn’t a lot of time or room for maneuvering because the four lanes of traffic were filled with cars speeding toward Mexico. And anyway, the map said . . . !

Not to worry, that is until we made the last left turn that brought us past a couple of military types standing on the side of the road, with some cool looking, lethal assult rifles slung over their shoulders. Having been in the Army 50 years ago, I still recognized U.S. Military uniforms, and these weren’t them. The next clue was the patch that identified them as Policia Nacional de Mexico. As we approached a gateway, there was a nice gentleman wearing the same uniform that had me stop so we could chat, before I entered his country. Technically, we were already in his country, by about a quarter mile. He asked for my papers and I didn’t have any because, as I explained to him, we hadn’t planned on leaving the U.S. After I explained that we had missed the turn off, he had me follow him as he casually walked across about four lanes of traffic to park us in a slot that was out of the way.

He asked me for my driver’s license, which he kept, and asked me to open the tailgate of the truck, probably looking for countraband, but we had nothing. After a little more discussion about how we got where we were, he again had me follow him across another four lanes of traffic and had me park in back of several cars with California license plates. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who missed the turnoff, and they were collecting lost drivers before sending us back in a flock. We sat there for about half an hour and finally the guy in charge told me to get behind the police truck and follow him. With his rooftop bar lights flashing, he led me and four other cars around the corner that put us on a street in beautiful downtown Tijuana. It was a narrow street, and we drove past a crosswalk where people were trying to cross the street. The guy didn’t stop; just kept on driving, but I had the choice of running the pedestrians down, or waiting for them to cross the street, hoping that our escort waited for us. I decided that running over pedestrians was not a great choice, so I waited for them to cross, and caught up with our guide who did actually wait for us.

Guess he didn’t want us running loose in his country!

A few more blocks and we stopped in front of a substantial steel gate that he unlocked and opened, leading us through. Down a short passageway to another gate, he parked his truck on the side and signaled me to drive around him, through the gate. As I drove by him, he gave me back my drivers’ license, and a few feet further on, we were back in the good ol’ U.S.of A. Facing me was many lanes of bumper to bumper traffic heading back into the U.S. There were two ICE agents standing on the side of the road and I asked them if I needed to find the back of the line, and they informed me that I should just try to squeeze my way in. A good samaritan let me in, and we were on our way – at 3 miles per hour.

Once again, we drove up to the guard booth where the guy on duty asked for my papers, which I explained that I didn’t have because blah, blah, blah! So again he took my drivers license and Brenda’s as well, because she had that sinister look, and spent a bit of time searching the terrorist data base – just to be sure. Apparently, we were not on the no-fly list, and we were cleared for re-entry, and he welcomed us back to the U.S., after being out of the country for at least an hour!

A few days later, the day before we were heading home, a major storm was headed our way, prompting me to relive the same scenario from two weeks earlier, when we left for our trip in another rain storm. All night we lay in bed listening to the rain pounding the trailer, thinking that we possibly wouldn’t be able to pack up the next day, but by morning the rain had stopped and it looked pretty nice out. So we had a quick breakfast, put everything away, hooked up the trailer to the truck and headed north.

All the way north past L.A. and over the Grapevine, we were watching the dark clouds in the rear view mirror, arriving at our next campground about 50 miles north of Paso Robles. We got set up just before the rain hit, and all night we, again, listened to the rain pounding the trailer, with the added attraction of 40 mile per hour winds that rocked the trailer pretty good. But we didn’t get blown over and the next morning we again had a clear-sky window of opportunity to pack up and get on the road. We stopped at the overlook on the north end of the Golden Gate Bridge to eat lunch and admire the view, and we made it home by about 4 pm and quickly unloaded the trailer and settled in for the night at home.

A fun trip!

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton