Later in the day Paul Waddell phoned in with the voice of reason. “You’ve got the cabin and our place for your bathroom and shower. What water you need for hand washing and flushing in the trailer you can carry in a gallon jug.”
This is how I thought the back end of my truck would look tomorrow. Except to Texas to retrieve Elvis, my truck has never gone more than a hundred miles or so without an Airstream attached. I would have felt almost naked.
A week anticipated for great fun in Virginia has spiraled into a cluster of stupidity. I won’t go into every detail, but the kingpin event was the leaking water heater in the Tradewind. It can’t be good when you see oddly placed fans blowing at top speed in an Airstream. This was bound to happen, I just didn’t know when.Don’t know if they all came like mine, but there is no cut-off valve for the water supply to the old Bowen. Taking the water heater off line would involve a certain degree of dismantling the plumbing and I’m just not going there right now. I was rattled. Unable to hold water, travel plans with the Airstream were scrapped. The Waddell’s would kindly let me sleep in the cabin so I could at least make a visit to Trailer Buff and Elvis.
Then it dawned on me. I hardly know how to pack for travel sans Airstream anymore. It’s just routine with the ‘Stream because, other than what goes in the truck, everything but fresh food is already loaded, ready to go, just hitch and drive. Now I have to pack clothes? and shoes? and toiletries? really?
DUH! Suddenly I realize how spoiled I am.
The Tradewind is hitched with a few gallons of water stowed inside. In the words of Antsy McClain, “Nothing’s gonna stop me now . . .”