We’ve Got It Going Our Way Now, Sis

My daddy was a jack-of-all-trades. He always had a purple nail on one of his rugged hands, from smashing it between two objects or having his hammer come down on it of his own accord. If we were close enough to where he was working, we’d hear him murmuring and having full-out conversations with himself. When he wasn’t talking, he was chewing on his tongue and contorting his mouth in weird ways that surely helped him get the job done quicker and easier.

I don’t think we saw him work on anything without something going a little haywire because he always seemed to throw a few more colorful words in during those times and there were often a lot of colorful words. Then, when things worked out the way he wanted, we heard the funniest and now, most beautiful line.

“We’ve got things going our way now, Sis.”

I’m sure the “Sis” was only for me and the “Shorty” only for my sister, but we heard it a million times. What I wouldn’t give to hear him say that again.

The proverbial apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, though, because I hear myself saying it every time I go to do something with this camper. Remember, the camper I bought last fall to take my husband who has Alzheimer’s on adventures? Yeah, that one.

In January, when I couldn’t stand living in the cold any longer, I vicariously made reservations for state parks and state forests down the Gulf Coast and up the Atlantic side of Florida. We just HAD to get to some warmth. But first, we had to have a day warm enough to de-winterize this camper which a couple of sweet camping friends, Christy and Steve, had helped winterize at the end of last season.

Two days before our first reservation, we had that warm day. I pulled out the steno pad (one of the gifts from a tub of fun and games to do from camping cousins Penny and Kevin) and attempted to make sense of the scribbles I made as poor Steve had tried to show me how to winterize and talk me through de-winterizing.

While I’ll try almost anything, water heaters and pumps and propane and RV antifreeze make me crazy. When I said “heater and pump” slowly, I could tell there must be a difference. Oh, the things I took for granted with a husband who once took care of my life without much muscle from me. Last season, I went headstrong and blindly into buying the camper, pulling it, and setting it up. But this season, I admit some fear crept in. Water heaters and water pumps did it. I had to empty and disinfect lines and tanks. Who knew bleach (the correct proportion) had to sit in the system at least three hours? This set me back some precious time. Actually, reading, watching YouTube videos, and pondering how to do EVERYTHING over and over, set me back an entire day.

There was time to put up a TV. In our previous lives, we secretly made fun of anyone camping in anything bigger than a tent, let alone with a TV, but the time is here that I want Jim to be comfortable and be able to stare mindlessly at a TV before bedtime if he wants to. Heck, who am I trying to kid? I will too. So my sister came over and spent hours (she is slightly more mechanical than I, it seems) putting together a bracket for the TV.

The kid at the RV place emphasized several times, nothing more than a 1″ screw is to be used on the camper walls.

“Even for a TV?” There was a wall with a sticker boasting it was a “TV backer”.

“ONE INCH,” he said for the third time.

Contorting my mouth, I drilled the first screw in, commenting it didn’t feel like it went into anything on that “TV backer” wall. The second and final screw went definitely into wood.

“I just don’t see how this is gonna hold,” as I wiggled the attached bracket for my sister.

“Well, if the guy said 1″ screws . . . I guess we can always remount it with bigger ones next time.”

So every little thing that gave me pause to ready for Florida, I celebrated with a “We’ve got it going our way now, Sis!” when it eventually went right.

I haven’t had the heart to tell my sister the road through Birmingham ripped the TV off the wall. It still works and will become a tabletop TV when I finally get the Dish set up.

We have seven campsites along our journey through Florida, searching for warmth while outrunning Alzheimer’s. The first was in a state park along the coast. A young guy Tommy and his wife Becky backed us into the tiny site on white sands everyone was saying was awful (because of size). It was perfect! Tommy and Becky were from northern Illinois and had transplanted to Kentucky as we also had many moons ago, so we had a lot to talk about. They even knew my favorite wine and winery, Purple Toad. And Tommy answered all my remaining camper questions. There is so much to learn about RV camping.

Our next campsite was away from the coast, into a state forest. We arrived in a daylong deluge, and I didn’t know if it was safe to plug in the 30 amps. What did we ever do without YouTube? An electrician told me in the rain it was safe to plug in if the breakers were off, so once the rain eased up I stood in rubber flip flops on the flooded ground and tried it. I’m still here to talk about it, so he was correct. We left the camper hooked up to the car, chocked the tires, and hooked up the water. Soaked and cold, we would wait until morning to do all the additional things.

The next morning we unhooked the water and electricity and traveled the short distance to the dump station. I had not dumped the 1/2 and 3/4 black and gray tanks in the rainstorm the previous day, so it was first on my list in the sunshine. Then, we went back and I did the most perfect camper set-up on a concrete pad, ever, using my very own tools out of my very own toolbox. Daddy would be proud.

“We’ve got things going our way now, Sis.” I was proud, too.

As I walked past the main jack on the tongue, I realized I hadn’t lowered it. Never. I mean NEVER lower the main jack with stabilizer (scissor) jacks already down. NEVER. In hindsight, it was so dumb. I began happily lowering the tongue jack, with my mouth contorted, as the camper creaked and lurched toward me in slow motion. I remember Jim reached his hand out as if to stop it from rolling on top of me. I had gotten out of the way and was praying it wouldn’t crash into the car. Fortunately, it moved about a foot and stopped. We stood stunned, staring at what had just happened. I used VERY colorful words. Then I saw the bent stabilizer jacks. Holy cow.

“Dammit, we are going to have to call an RV place to make repairs”

Once I lowered the main jack again and lifted the stabilizers, I checked the damage on each one. It looked like three were damaged. Two badly, but if I put them down slowly, I thought I could still use them. Maybe until I get home and my own RV place can replace/repair them. We’ll see. I leveled the camper up again and we’re making it. As long as each stabilizer will go back up enough to be road-worthy, I’m not worried.

Before we left to hike to a gorgeous Pond Cypress swamp, a fellow camper walked by and said the same thing happened to him. That made me feel so much better. I’m not the only one. Although, he did look a little more on the studious side than the mechanical side. But he did say he replaced them himself.

Oh well. “We’ve got it going our way now, Sis.”