Recounting fearful situations, driving in a big city was high on my list. I lived in Wahoo, NE and did not drive in Omaha until I was thirty. Of course I got lost and was scared to death. I asked for directions twice. Both times they were wrong. A nervous wreck, I finally make it to my destination. Now that I'm in MS, I frequently make the drive to NE in one day, all 800 miles of it. Those baby steps gave me the courage to tow a vehicle through Kansas City, St Louis, El Paso, Dallas, Nashville and Atlanta, to name a few.
Thirteen years ago today we bought a used forty foot motorhome. Talk about a challenge! The rear wheels are set forward, not close to the end like a bus. Too quick of a turn could wipe out a lane of traffic. I learned to drive it and by myself from Big Springs, TX to Tucson, AZ.
If I had stayed in my comfortable NE home, there's a lot I would have missed.
2013 Red Convertible Travel Series
Showing posts with label RV travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RV travel. Show all posts
Friday, October 04, 2013
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Draped in Dog
Dog days of summer
motorhome lumbers
Buckshot scared
in my lap
head on my shoulder
legs braced on mine
'tis better parked
at start finish line
Lafayette Springs Dirt Track
front row seats
Grandaughter Bertlee
agrees
a good time was had
by all
2013 Red Convertible Travel Series
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
NASCAR & the woman from MARS
"Baby, we're only 140 miles from Atlanta Motor Speedway, want to go to the race?"
"You bet!"
Within minutes we had tickets and a parking place for the motorhome St. Patrick's weekend. Pack, plan and invite friends; it's more fun when shared.
There's the race and then there's all the other stuff that happens. On St. Patrick's day we parked in Legends Campground behind a rented RV from Canada. Visiting with the lady of the group we learned that she was from MARS - a slim, trim, blue-eyed blonde that sounded Mid-western. We know NASCAR is the fastest growing sport among women, but Mars? How many rocks from the sun is that?
To our delight, two of our house guests were adolescent boys who found it more interesting to exit the motorhome's two steps sliding on their bellies. JB flipped a coin for them to claim which set of earplugs. We gathered coolers and coats and headed for the "Rebuilt Real Fast" stands. It was a mountain climb to our seats in the 69th row of the Champion's.
The boys watched the Craftsman Truck Race until the need for food, or a diversion, took over. Just once Mr. G. showed them the way down. Thereafter, they navigated on their own returning with a funnel cake one time, and space ice cream others. I liked the mint chocolate best. Todd Bodine won.
Back at camp we set our little grill on the grass to similate a campfire. It didn't take the boys long to discover they could make flames by adding dry grass. JB cut a metal coat hanger in half for roasting marshmallows. We put the slightly dark ones between mint patties. The blackened ones dropped on the hot coals and swelled up - a science experiment.
Before Saturday's Nicorette 300 Busch race we put our small charcoal grill on our plastic table to cook hotdogs and polish sausage. We didn't notice it was melting through. The indentation resembles a large butterfly hurled hard and fast, or are those Martian footprints? Mr. G autographed our "less table, more conversation piece." Jeff Burton won.
Sunday just JB and I treked the half-mile to the track in our rain-gear with coolers and sandwiches, took our seats in the Champion stands, and waited. Spits of rain. National Anthem. Drivers in their cars. Drivers out. Trucks busy drying the track. Drizzle. Real rain. Race delayed until Monday at eleven. Close together and fast drops parted the sea of spectators into stayers and leavers. We stayed. It was our seventh race, and the first that was a rain delay.
Ms. MARS came by happily saying, "It was an eighteen hour drive from north of Toronto. We;re staying. It's my first race." Her husband had been to Talladega, and came home with a smile. No doubt. We've been to that Red Neck Mardi Gras: beads, boobs and painted on bikinis.
Mon. we heard, "Gentlemen....start your engines!" I soooo want to say that. The race was on. We were up and down, intrigued by each caution, and thankful no one was seriously hurt. Kasey Kahne won.
The crowd was thin. Our Canadian friend came to say bye. I overheard her admit she had worked at the MARS candy factory, but I never saw a trace of chocolate on her face or any samples.
It didn't seem like such a big deal to leave after the race with fewer spectators, but it took us five hours to go 140 miles. Stop and go to Atlanta. It was so slow, guys who needed relief dashed out to the ditch, and lined up like a busload of French school kids.
copyright 2006 Red Convertible Travel Series
"You bet!"
Within minutes we had tickets and a parking place for the motorhome St. Patrick's weekend. Pack, plan and invite friends; it's more fun when shared.
There's the race and then there's all the other stuff that happens. On St. Patrick's day we parked in Legends Campground behind a rented RV from Canada. Visiting with the lady of the group we learned that she was from MARS - a slim, trim, blue-eyed blonde that sounded Mid-western. We know NASCAR is the fastest growing sport among women, but Mars? How many rocks from the sun is that?
To our delight, two of our house guests were adolescent boys who found it more interesting to exit the motorhome's two steps sliding on their bellies. JB flipped a coin for them to claim which set of earplugs. We gathered coolers and coats and headed for the "Rebuilt Real Fast" stands. It was a mountain climb to our seats in the 69th row of the Champion's.
The boys watched the Craftsman Truck Race until the need for food, or a diversion, took over. Just once Mr. G. showed them the way down. Thereafter, they navigated on their own returning with a funnel cake one time, and space ice cream others. I liked the mint chocolate best. Todd Bodine won.
Back at camp we set our little grill on the grass to similate a campfire. It didn't take the boys long to discover they could make flames by adding dry grass. JB cut a metal coat hanger in half for roasting marshmallows. We put the slightly dark ones between mint patties. The blackened ones dropped on the hot coals and swelled up - a science experiment.
Before Saturday's Nicorette 300 Busch race we put our small charcoal grill on our plastic table to cook hotdogs and polish sausage. We didn't notice it was melting through. The indentation resembles a large butterfly hurled hard and fast, or are those Martian footprints? Mr. G autographed our "less table, more conversation piece." Jeff Burton won.
Sunday just JB and I treked the half-mile to the track in our rain-gear with coolers and sandwiches, took our seats in the Champion stands, and waited. Spits of rain. National Anthem. Drivers in their cars. Drivers out. Trucks busy drying the track. Drizzle. Real rain. Race delayed until Monday at eleven. Close together and fast drops parted the sea of spectators into stayers and leavers. We stayed. It was our seventh race, and the first that was a rain delay.
Ms. MARS came by happily saying, "It was an eighteen hour drive from north of Toronto. We;re staying. It's my first race." Her husband had been to Talladega, and came home with a smile. No doubt. We've been to that Red Neck Mardi Gras: beads, boobs and painted on bikinis.
Mon. we heard, "Gentlemen....start your engines!" I soooo want to say that. The race was on. We were up and down, intrigued by each caution, and thankful no one was seriously hurt. Kasey Kahne won.
The crowd was thin. Our Canadian friend came to say bye. I overheard her admit she had worked at the MARS candy factory, but I never saw a trace of chocolate on her face or any samples.
It didn't seem like such a big deal to leave after the race with fewer spectators, but it took us five hours to go 140 miles. Stop and go to Atlanta. It was so slow, guys who needed relief dashed out to the ditch, and lined up like a busload of French school kids.
copyright 2006 Red Convertible Travel Series
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Homeless in Cape Girardeau
Two weeks without our RV refigerator working equals salvaged contents floating in a cooler of melted ice, even though we drain it daily and continually add more. Secretly I pretend I'm in Europe and "market" often. We grill meat or fry crappie with our neighbors in the evening, roast eggplant, fennel, potatoes and onions with olive oil and salt, toast garlic bread, have fresh strawberry shortcake and finish the evening by the bonfire. The full moon adds a touch of romance. We're doing okay.
Like those rousted from their home by fire, we took what we "thought" we would need for today when we left our RV at the shop. JB bought us Kentucky Fried Chicken we took to the park and ate with the ducks. Walking by the lake we noticed a chalk drawing on the sidewalk some talented artist had drawn of a pair of birds in God's hands. Would we have taken time for a picnic in the park otherwise? Pobably not.
Feeling like a displaced person, I remembered Grace's Cafe has Wi-Fi, sandwiches, salads, homemade desserts and a variety of Italian soda flavors and other hot and cold drinks. Over an iced latte Annette said she invented a salad today: watermelon, feta cheese, fresh mint leaves, red onion and olive oil. Sounds delicious. I wished I was hungry. Vintage clothes are to my left and comfortable couches that invite intimate conversation to my right. If our refer hadn't gone out, I might not have had the good fortune to spend the afternoon at Grace's.
copyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series
Like those rousted from their home by fire, we took what we "thought" we would need for today when we left our RV at the shop. JB bought us Kentucky Fried Chicken we took to the park and ate with the ducks. Walking by the lake we noticed a chalk drawing on the sidewalk some talented artist had drawn of a pair of birds in God's hands. Would we have taken time for a picnic in the park otherwise? Pobably not.
Feeling like a displaced person, I remembered Grace's Cafe has Wi-Fi, sandwiches, salads, homemade desserts and a variety of Italian soda flavors and other hot and cold drinks. Over an iced latte Annette said she invented a salad today: watermelon, feta cheese, fresh mint leaves, red onion and olive oil. Sounds delicious. I wished I was hungry. Vintage clothes are to my left and comfortable couches that invite intimate conversation to my right. If our refer hadn't gone out, I might not have had the good fortune to spend the afternoon at Grace's.
copyright 2005 Red Convertible Travel Series
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