March 31, 2021

It’s the stuff that happens right in front of your face when there’s no routine and everything is unexpected. That’s what I want to write about. – Harvey Pekar, American underground comic book writer

I’m writing this post from Deerlick Creek, an Army Corps of Engineers park near Tuscaloosa, Alabama. We arrived here Tuesday after four days of easy traveling and one-nighters here and there. Two hundred miles is usually the most we drive in any one day which, at 50-55 miles per hour, takes about four hours. When there’s no real rush, there’s no point in hurrying. Besides, I’m doing a good bit of the driving now, so I take my time. By the way, I don’t drive with my “Caution: Student Driver” sign plastered on the back anymore!

Our last stopover of any length was in Livingston, Texas, where we stayed eight nights at Rainbow’s End, an Escapees’ park. Weather-wise, springtime in the South can be volatile, and that was the major reason we stayed there so long. It was a wise decision; there were at least three days of bad weather in areas we’d be heading to, even tornadoes in some places. While there, we learned more about Escapees’ CARE (Continuing Assistance for Retired Escapees), a safe haven for members whose travels are impacted by age or temporarily interrupted because of health problems. We’ve become realistic and have realized we can’t keep up this vagabond lifestyle forever, so we’re looking at potential options for when the time comes to park Felix once and for all.

Another benefit offered to Escapees’ members is their SmartWeigh program that determines individual wheel weights for one’s RV and tow vehicle, which are very critical factors and something that I’m very concerned and practically anal about. Kris was competent, efficient, witty, and diplomatic. Especially when she explained that Felix was very near its maximum weight and that she’d “suggest” dropping some weight where we could. Whenever I suggested doing the same thing, Dave blew me off. But I guess since he figured Kris knew what she was talking about, he listened. One thing we did right away was drain about a third of our 100-gallon fresh water tank. That was a lot of weight right there. And now that we’re in one place for a week, we’ll go through from stem to stern, top to bottom, and purge what we don’t need. I’m going to love it; not so much for Dave.

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In Monroe, Louisiana we stayed at another Harvest Host, the Chennault Aviation and Military Museum. It was fabulous, and you didn’t need to be a history buff to appreciate the more than 11,000 military artifacts from the Civil War, World Wars I and II, all the way through current conflicts. The museum is housed in one of the last school buildings from the Selman Navigational School, the largest navigation school in the country during World War II from which more than 15,000 navigators graduated. A retired Naval veteran and one of the volunteer guides there, Kay, gave us a personal tour as she escorted us through the museum. She was so personable and animated, it was easy to pay attention and be interested in her stories. An unexpected fact we learned was that Monroe, Louisiana is where a regional crop dusting service, Huff Daland, developed into one of today’s largest and most respected airlines, Delta.

The highlight of the museum was all the memorabilia belonging to Major General Claire Chennault, the legendary pursuit pilot and leader of the famed Flying Tigers in China, for whom Chennault Air Force Base, Lake Charles, Louisiana, is named. Chennault’s Flying Tigers–the first American Volunteer Group of the Republic of China Air Force in 1941-1942–are credited with destroying as many as 497 Japanese planes at a cost of only 73 of their own. Of all of Chennault’s mementos, I thought the most fantastic was the jewel-encrusted dragon robe that belonged to China’s last emperor which was given to him as a token of sincere gratitude from the people of China. It’s entirely, 100%, hand-stitched; the thread is actually gold and silver, not gold- or silver-colored. It’s an incredible work of art. (Enlarge the photo, if you can, and be amazed!)

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When I started writing about our adventures, I promised myself I’d write about all of it: the highs as well as the lows, no matter how embarrassing. And I have…various and sundry tire failures, the time in Colorado when one came off the truck and bounced across the interstate, another time in Texas when the awning support unexpectedly gave way and the whole awning unfurled like a giant sail as we made our way down the highway. All of this is to say that **it happens, and even though the RVing lifestyle might seem exciting and maybe even a little enviable, there always awaits the element of surprise. It’s just a matter of “when.”

Such was the case Monday. We had stayed the previous night at a campground in Meridian, Mississippi, but didn’t connect our sewer hose to the in-ground sewer because it wasn’t long enough. We just figured we’d do it the following morning; we’d back up the RV, connect, and dump our tanks then. Now, our RV has three tanks: one for fresh water, one for grey water (wastewater from sources such as laundry and kitchen), and one for black water (wastewater from toilets.) For quite some time, the handle to the shaft that opens the valve to the black water tank hasn’t closed completely (by about an eighth of an inch.) Replacing it was on Dave’s to-do list (someday.)

Since Monday’s run was going to be only about a hundred miles and check-in time at our next stop wasn’t until 4 p.m., we took our time preparing to leave. By the time we were all set, the other RVs that had come in for the night (5) had already left, and we were the only ones remaining. I’m the one that usually empties the tanks because, ever since Dave’s knee operation, it’s easier for me to bend down and do it. I removed the cap to the valve so that I could connect the sewer hose, but a steady drip (of black water) seeped out, so I asked Dave to help me close it completely. Well, for some reason, he shoved it in with all his might and, you guessed it, the fitting connecting the waste valve to the black water tank broke off, and all the contents of the black water tank came spewing out mercilessly, all over our hands and onto our shoes before hitting the ground!

Has something ever happened so quickly that you were so stunned into silence that you wondered if what had just happened really happened? That was our reaction. It was disgusting. There were times, when the kids were babies, that I was peed on and pooped on. But compared to this, those incidents were miniscule. Once the worse was over, we burst into laughter and immediately connected the water hose and hurriedly cleaned up the nasty mess, all the while rattling off reasons to be grateful (that there wasn’t an audience; that the tank only contained a couple days-worth of black water, that it didn’t happen in front of all our friends in Bandera–they would never let us live it down–just to name a few.) Once on the road, Dave called the campground and reported what had happened. He’s such an honest man. The owner actually thanked him and said not to worry, that it had happened before.

I will never, ever, laugh at the misfortunes of others because, by the grace of God, there go I. This proves it. Also, there’s a silver lining: the fix-it project suddenly catapulted to the forefront of Dave’s to-do list, and he fixed it yesterday. The moral of this story is that truly, a stitch in time saves nine!

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We will be here for another few days and then head up to Hopkinsville to see Kate and the kids, and hopefully some friends if time allows. From there it’s on to Branson for a month, and from there, who knows? Time will tell. Until next time, take care, stay safe, and be healthy. And remember to wash your hands!

Peace, love, and great big hugs, Maria