Looking Back

Two thousand and five slid by faster than a greased hog on ice, but it certainly was fun. January didn’t start very well, with a crashed laptop computer but eventually that revived. With the new desktop working so well, I gave the well-traveled Gateway to a beginner. She didn’t mind that computers are obsolete the minute the cash register goes “ka-ching.”

I confess that when I wrote about visiting Oatman, Arizona, with my daughter and grandson, I left out a few things. During the evening, I smelled propane. Soap bubble testing divulged nothing. I gave up and turned it off. Uh huh, 7,000-foot elevation in March. In due time I discovered the ceramic propane heater had been installed improperly, although it took a year before the line worked loose.

Then I stepped on a very wet floor near the bed. Couldn’t do much about that either, and later it required a water tank replacement.

We snuggled under the covers for warmth and in the wee hours, I got up and quietly closed the bathroom door. As I tried to quietly return to bed, the door wouldn’t open. Desperate knob-wiggling awakened Tracey. A butter knife was passed back and forth under the door to pry it open, but it didn’t work. She went out into a dark, freezing mountain night to find the toolbox. She unscrewed the knob. With a touch to the catch, the door opened. Everything had gone wrong, but a least Tracey was impressed that I knew exactly where the toolbox lived.

Although it was a funny story to repeat, if I had been alone the possible headlines were sobering. “Silver Gypsy bones found behind locked bathroom door in remote area. It appears that in desperation she unscrewed the skylight with a nail file and attempted to walk up the molded shower ledges to freedom. Her remains were discovered several months after her two daughters finally had that discussion about making reservations for her at ‘the home.’”

The doorknob was replaced with the assembly screws inside. A Phillips screwdriver now resides permanently in the bathroom drawer.

Wine Tasting
Last summer son-in-law Bill convinced us to visit the Icicle Ridge Winery in Peshastin, Washington, not only for wine sipping but to see its magnificent 5,000- square-foot cabin. It was everything he said and more. And then came the wine tasting. For someone who can get drunk on wine cooler, several “tastes,” were enough “No more, I’ve had my limit.” We were offered wine with chocolate in it. “Well, maybe just one more.”

Owners Judy and Lou Wagoner met each other in 1964 while skiing Stevens Pass. He noticed this beautiful blonde “city girl” and stole a bacon slice off her plate. They were married in 1966. A lot of history evolved between then and the winery opening in 2002, including three daughters, cabin-building, fruit-growing and winemaking.

It never occurred to me that stealing bacon off a breakfast plate was the way to meet a guy. It’s a thought, but I think I’d be scared to try it. Bacon is serious business.

Saying Farewell
In our excitement and joy of RV traveling, inevitably sadness will surface. My two youngest brothers died this last year, so when I heard this story about friends from my “first life,” I felt it was “The Perfect Goodbye.”

Our family was part of a large RVing/tenting group when all our children were growing up. We often gathered our “wagons” in the proverbial circle in northern Michigan or southern Indiana. Neighbor Bob Myers always propelled us through a sing-a-long accompanied by his ukulele. Bob’s parents joined us one weekend. We sang “That Old Gang of Mine.” His dad stopped us long enough to do a narrative between verses that we didn’t realize was part of it. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. His father recently died at age 96. At his father’s memorial service, Bob played the ukulele while he and a camping buddy sang and talked through “That Old Gang of Mine” once more. His dad would have loved it.

Scary Moments
My Janet, who has never been a morning person, was brought bolt upright at 5 a.m. in July with this phone message: “Rebecca’s OK. We wanted you to know the kids weren’t anywhere near the explosions.” Turning the TV on, we watched the tragic London bombings. My granddaughter was there with a tour group.

When my friend Linda, whom I have written about in several columns this year, returned to Indiana, we coordinated her flight at 11 a.m. with mine for a Pennsylvania Life on Wheels Conference. Because I needed to be in the airport by 5 a.m. for a 6 a.m. Seattle flight, we parked at the Wenatchee Pangborn Airport late the night before and went to sleep.

We awakened to something like machinegun fire hitting the motorhome. Linda arose mid-snore with a startled, “What’s that!” In my sleepiness, I laughed. I knew the sound. Airport sprinklers on either side of the motorhome turned on with a sound resembling a war zone. A similar situation happened to me in the Peteros (Washington) City Park a few years ago. Their sprinkling system activated about 3 a.m. and scared me witless until I discovered the source.

Looking Ahead
After returning to North Ranch for the winter, I gave myself an early Christmas present, a park model. I traded my fifth wheel abode in for better insulation. At some future time when the trees I’ve planted have turned into a forest against the Arizona summer heat, I will stay year-around. That insulation should make it easier to cool. I’ll tell you about this newest acquisition at a later time.

What are coming attractions for 2006? Although I contacted them, my RVing didn’t coincide with an opportunity to do a tandem jump with Skydive Snohomish. It is at the head of my list for next summer. Want to join me?

Hope you had as much fun RVing into adventure and meeting new people in 2005 as I did. Happy New Year and God Bless.