Many, many years ago, we were part of a band of free spirits who went to Big Bend National Park and spent the month between Christmas and college spring semester backpacking. We all had names like Orville, Narvel, Doc Emmit, Wandy, Hecker, and The Booze; names that were to be spoken with the longest, most drawn-out southern drawl one could possibly muster. We named our group the Big Belly Sunset Watchers Club and we watched gorgeous sunsets from the canyons and the Chisos Mountains in the Chihuahuan Desert. Fast forward 35 years: Orville and I (Narvel) bought a camper and new car to pull it. We are a long way away from tent backpacking, but the same old wandering spirit has returned and Doc Emmit and Hecker, along with all our more recent friends, family, and readers are cheering us on as we thumb our noses at Alzheimers and head to northern Minnesota. But not before I pull out of the driveway at home with the electrical cord still plugged into the carport. Thank goodness I noticed the cord out a side mirror before I tore it totally out of the side of the camper. A few hours into our trip, the rains began to fall and I checked campsites about midway between southern Illinois and the Twin Cities, where our brand new and two-year-old grandsons make their home. I figured it would be easy enough to stop by a state park, stick cash into a registration box at the entrance and pick out a campsite, just like the days of the Big Belly Sunset Watchers. Oh, how naive I was. Rock Cut State Park was midway, but it required a reservation three days prior to a stay, even if there were open spaces. I guess this happened when Orville and I were busy shuttling boys between baseball and basketball games and life online was being populated. Remember, this new adventure to outrun Alzheimers (http://dark-before-our-dawn) was spur-of-the-moment from its inception, so it wasn’t about to change now. As it rained harder and the sun set, I looked up nearby Walmarts that would allow campers to park for the night. This didn’t make me happy, but I figured everyone needs to stay in a Walmart parking lot at least once in their camping lifetime. A manager in Rochelle, IL was kind enough to allow us to park in their lot near the Taco Bell. I had been prepared to give them a sob story about it raining and how I was pulling a camper for the first time, but fortunately, it wasn’t necessary. She made me think she made a concession just for us and I felt almost special until I drove into an area with two other campers and three semi-trucks. I mentally scratched the thank-you card I planned to send, off my list. I didn’t seem to have an owner’s manual and even though I recorded the entire walk-around and training about the workings of the camper, I was too tired to watch it. Instead, I attempted to do what I thought was correct. Afraid it would suck the car battery dead, I unplugged the electrical cord from the car. Because I didn’t know how many times the toilet could be flushed before the black tank was full, I wouldn’t flush the toilet until we were ready to leave the parking lot the next morning. One person told me not to drive with anything in the holding tanks, while another told me it was okay. It was hot and humid and the rain kept us from opening any windows or vents. Because we weren’t connected to electricity, we couldn’t run the air conditioner. Fortunately, I’d brought a box fan. When I tried to run it, I found out the outlets didn’t work (note: call RV place in the morning about how to get outlets working). The snores coming from the other side of the queen-sized bed told me Orville didn’t have any trouble sleeping. I couldn’t. I tossed and turned all night. The heat was unbearable and I averaged four hours of sleep, off and on. At one point, when I opened my eyes and saw it was morning, I felt relieved that first night in the camper was over. As I lay there, it occurred to me the sun wasn’t getting any brighter, and I checked the time: 3:20 a.m. It was the simulated sunrise on the horizon created by the parking lot lights and the bright Wal-Mart sign that fooled me into getting up. Orville raised up and asked, “Are we having fun yet?” Believing he was joking, Narvel (me) told him to go back to sleep. I stayed up and waited for the actual sunrise to appear before I turned on the water pump and flushed. Our first night on the road was not great. But it wasn’t bad, either. I felt we had accomplished something. We survived our first night. Fist bump. I started the car and moved forward. I moved forward because that is the direction in which to find our grandsons; the only direction in which I can go. Backing up is not in the repertoire yet. I will call a campsite in northern Minnesota and make sure they have a pull-through space.