Train Ride to Silverton

If you are a railroad buff (or even if you’re not), taking the narrow-gauge rail trip between Durango and Silverton, Colorado is not to be missed.  It is one of the truly iconic train rides in the country, the railroad having been in business since 1882.  The ancient coal-fired steam engines are throwbacks to an era unknown to the last three generations or so of Americans, and the fact that these 1920s relics are still operating reliably is an engineering wonder.  Parts for these locomotives have been nonexistent for decades, so the Durango and Silverton Railroad rebuilds them or manufactures new ones themselves in their state-of-the art shops.

I had ridden the train in my childhood, so my memories of the trip were very hazy.  Sandy had never experienced it at all, so Bubba invited us to meet them in Durango and make the trip with them today.  He made reservations months ago, and if you intend to take this trip, you need to do the same.  Don’t bother to show up on the day of departure and expect to get a seat.


We were to meet at 8:00 a.m., to arrive at the station and get parked in time for the 9:00 a.m. train and, almost as amazing as the locomotives, Bubba and his group were on time! 


Sandy had been a little nervous about the trip, as she has some degree of acrophobia and feared the train would be negotiating hairpin curves overlooking deep chasms, a situation that would be very uncomfortable for her.  Unfortunately, I didn’t remember enough about my childhood ride to offer her much assurance that the route wouldn’t be a challenging in this way.  However, as the train made its way up the Animas River valley, it became clear that there would be no hairpin curves overlooking deep canyons, except for a short stretch near Rockwood that was relatively benign but simply too picturesque for her to be apprehensive.


The vast majority of the route followed the Animas River, a gorgeous clear stream cascading over millions of rocks and through calm eddies, as well, making its way south to Durango and beyond.  The water flow is substantial enough to offer a good ride to countless rafters and tubers, and such an adventure seemed really appealing due to the picturesque setting in the cool mountain air.

Typical scenery en route to Silverton
The train travels quite slowly, taking three and one-half hours to reach Silverton, a charming old mining town at 9,300 feet elevation, at which point a layover of a couple of hours was provided for lunch and sightseeing before returning to Durango. 

Main Street in Silverton
A popular option for riders is to omit the return trip in favor of a much faster bus ride.  We chose the bus for the leg back to Durango, and we’re glad we did.  The road trip was through gorgeous mountain scenery, and the driver, who gave an excellent touristy narrative, pointed out that the San Juan Skyway, a part of which is the route between Silverton and Durango, is one of the ten most scenic drives in America.  We would have to agree and vowed to return sometime to make the entire 126-mile trip.


Is this train trip one that I would do again?  Probably not.  Once you get past reliving the rich history of the railroad and the novelty of passenger travel on a steam train, the trip is really little more than spending three and a half hours looking at the Animas River at the bottom of picturesque, but not dissimilar, canyons.  I think one hour would have been enough.


After our return to Durango, we drove about ten miles north to Hermosa and visited Honeyville, a purveyor of honey, jams and jellies and other novelties since 1950.  We got quite a few samples before deciding on six jars of tasty, but rather expensive, honey butter and jellies.


We then came back to town and toured the Durango and Silverton Railroad’s museum (free with your trip ticket), housed in the old roundhouse, still in use by the company to perform maintenance on its rolling stock.  We enjoyed this interesting exhibit and then walked to a nearby Thai restaurant (named the Sizzling Pot, I think) for what turned out to be some really second rate food.  We won’t be going back to this one.


Returning to the RV park, we stopped by Bubba’s trailer and spent a couple of hours sitting outside chatting with the group.  We laughed a lot and finally broke up the merriment as the warmth of the day yielded to the growing coldness of the night mountain air.


It was a good day--a very good day--and tomorrow we will be leaving for Monument Valley.

Cool Colorado

It was a beastly drive to Durango from Clovis--some eleven hours to travel the 430 miles, including fairly long stops for fuel and lunch and another shorter stop to make a sandwich to eat while we drove.  Lucille’s computer showed 12.9 mpg, which I thought was quite respectable.  I’ve paid between $2.79 and $3.28 per gallon for diesel, usually around $3.08 in this area.


We hate driving such long distances but, we were behind schedule, and my days off are not yet unlimited, like you lucky retirees!  Grrrrr.  The journey was unremarkable, but Sandy’s knee was beginning to bother her due to the long sitting spells that deprived her of the movement she needs for optimizing the healing process. We shouldn’t have any more of these long driving days; I’m trying to keep the legs below 300 miles.


Bubba met us at Lightner Creek Campground in Durango around 10:00 p.m., and boy, was it dark—country dark!  We didn’t even attempt to unhook Homer from Lucille, because setting up in the dark is not only a struggle, but it’s noisy, and the other campers don’t appreciate all that racket so late in the evening.  We just hooked up electricity and water and went to bed, dog tired.  We would finish setting up in the morning.


We awoke to find ourselves in a very nice campground that followed the banks of Lightner Creek, a clear, gurgling stream that flows down a narrow mountain valley about five miles west of Durango.  The place is full this July 4th weekend, and we roamed around until we found Bubba and his crew. 

Bubba, LouAnn and Sandy in front of their trailer

We then went out on our own for a little shopping, during which we ate lunch at La Margarita, a fairly good Mexican restaurant, but certainly not up to Texas standards.  I’m not sure why we keep trying Mexican restaurants outside Texas; so far, it hasn’t yielded very good results; I guess it’s because hope springs eternal.  By the way, the worst Mexican restaurant we have ever patronized, and the one by which all other bad Mexican restaurants will be judged, is the one in London, England.  I can’t even remember the name now, as I have attempted to obliterate it from my memory.  Suffice it to say that it truly deserved to be dispatched to the dustbin of history by a talented arsonist.   Sandy enjoyed looking in all the shops in the bustling downtown area, she bought some very handsome earrings in the shape of a Suguaro cactus, which I thought appropriate, given the area in which we are traveling. 


Durango is a vibrant, busy town that is very clean and well-policed, appearing to be almost devoid of the kind of blight we saw in Clovis.  I’m not sure how they manage that, given today’s economy, but it reminded me of towns we have seen in Switzerland and Austria that appear to have no citizen underclass.  Amazing.  (Post-publishing note:     We found the, ah, more modest residential area some distance north of the city, in the Hermosa area.)


On tap for the evening’s entertainment was dinner and a show at the Bar D ranch, serving a barbecue dinner to about a thousand folks, who remained for music from a talented quartet singing mostly western songs including, to our delight, the iconic “Tumbling Tumbleweeds,” which I’m sure the group has done every night since 1969 when the place opened.    The dinner was forgettable, but the guys were superb instrumentalists and singers, and we enjoyed the show very much.  We got back to Homer quite late and slept well, enjoying a short rain shower peppering down on the roof. 

Bar D Ranch audience pavilion covered due to brief shower

Bar D Ranch singers and the Barker Family

 
Barry and Algene, Bubba’s mom and dad        Pavilion cover retracted after rain

Ain't Lovin' Clovis

We got a late start from Wichita Falls due to my failed attempts to get the new Pressure Pro tire monitor to work.  It never would initiate as the instructions describe, so I think I’ll have to send it back for a replacement.  The leg from Wichita Falls to Clovis was just 300 miles, but we were pretty tired when we got there and decided to stop for the night.  The next leg to Durango will be a fiendish 430 miles, so I’ll have to take some Geritol or something, I guess.


I really hate to disparage communities, because every town is someone’s home town.  But Clovis seems to go out of its way to invite criticism.  U. S. highway 84, the main east-west drag through town, has been allowed to deteriorate to the extent that it could possibly damage your suspension.  Pulling Homer through town gave the new Air Safe hitch a workout as the pin box gyrated around wildly on the air-suspended hitch head.  Even with this marvel of a shock-dampening hitch, we found a few things tossed around inside the trailer when we stopped for the night.  The city fathers should be flogged for allowing a main artery to get in this shape.  Even for the streets that had been resurfaced, the work was inferior.  The asphalt overlay had not been applied to cover the entire street, but only those portions that had deteriorated.  While this fixed the potholes, the uneven surface made for a terrible ride everywhere we went.  Except for the newer, more affluent north end of town, the area along U. S. 84 looked very bleak, impoverished and worn.  This was certainly one of the least appealing cityscapes that I can ever remember seeing in all our travels in the U. S.


Traveler’s World, the more desirable RV park, had no 50-amp site available, so we stayed at KC Campground, a pretty low-rent place with dusty and unkempt dirt and gravel (mostly dirt) sites and no shade anywhere.  It was priced pretty well at $24, and the proprietor was friendly.  After parking and exiting Lucille, we couldn’t help but notice in the breeze the unmistakable odor of the stockyards south of town.  After retreating into Homer, we elected not even to unhook, as there was not really any more of this place we cared to explore.  We made a very tasty Caesar salad with grilled chicken, watched a little TV and turned in fairly early.

Sunrise at Clovis

View from our window:

Rain Delay

Oddly enough, it has never rained before on a day we departed on an RV trip.  And perhaps never before had we been so fully prepared for an early departure yesterday, but it was all for naught.  It came a gully washer there in Fort Worth, and I wasn’t about to try to hook up and drive while that was going on.  There are enough crazies on the road as it is, and they get even crazier when the road is wet.


So, we didn’t launch until mid-afternoon, and that allowed us to get no farther than Wichita Falls before time to quit for the day.  This puts us way behind in our schedule, and we’re going to have a couple of long and grueling days getting to Durango.  RV travel during a defined period of time off from work is often frantic for us, and we can hardly wait for retirement so that it won’t matter if we take a delay for rain. 


Here are some photos of our departure from Homer’s little RV port beside our house near Fort Worth:
 
(In case you’re wondering, backing Homer into this RV port was a little challenging until I had done it a few times.  Nowadays, I rarely hit anything.)


About halfway to Wichita Falls, Sandy began chanting and meditating, zen-fashion, getting herself mentally prepared for the long trek across west Texas and New Mexico.  She is less than enthusiastic about traveling through desolate and featureless landscape, and there is plenty of that along our route.  Unfortunately, there is just no way of avoiding it if you’re going west or northwest through Texas.  I do love my state, but God was not particularly slavish to topographical appeal in some areas when He designed it.  One fable has it that God, when putting Texas together and beautifying it, became tired because of the hugeness of the state.  He decided to rest when he was about half-finished but never got around to completing west Texas.  Other Texas lore says that when God was creating west Texas, he tossed all the leftover rocks into Big Bend.  We would agree with that, but at least in Big Bend, you’ve got the rocks to look at.  In much of west Texas, you’ve got nothing to look at but, well, nothing.


We stayed at the Wichita Falls RV Park (wonder how long they agonized over what to name it?), an older park that was nice enough, with lots of trees and not very crowded.  It was very quiet, and the wi-fi was free and working pretty well.


Upon a recommendation from a local denizen, we tried McBride’s Land and Cattle Co. for dinner and found it to be a little above mediocre. 


After the obligatory stop at Wal-Mart, we returned to Homer, watched a little TV and turned in for the night.

A Trip is in the Works!

For the past several months, Bubba has lobbied for us to join him and his family in Colorado over the fourth of July holiday.  We finally gave in, not because we didn’t want to visit with them (they’re quite a hoot to be around), but because it is so disagreeably hot in July and August if you’re south of, say, Nome.


Sandy and I are hopelessly dependent on air conditioning during the summertime here in the hell simulator we call Texas.  When we built the new house, we demanded a higher capacity a/c unit than was recommended.  As a result, all the lights in the neighborhood go dim when we fire up that sucker.  (Not really, but it does keep the house frosty cool.)  We even added a separate a/c unit for the master suite, which we keep at 68 degrees while sleeping.  And no, our electric bills are quite low, thankfully, due to extreme overkill in insulating the place.  It’s actually more like a huge Styrofoam cooler than anything else.
 
Bubba, LouAnn and daughter BreAnn have a head start.  They departed a few days ago for the Grand Canyon, after which they will make their way back through southern Utah to Durango, where we’ll meet them on July 1.


We’ll leave Fort Worth next Tuesday and stay overnight at Lubbock and Santa Fe en route to Durango.  While there, we will ride the old steam train up to Silverton through some really gorgeous mountain scenery.  I made that trip when I was a kid, so I don’t remember much about it, and Sandy has never ridden the train.  I got a note from Ed Dray today, giving us some suggestions about where to sit on the train for the best view and a line on a good Mexican restaurant in Durango.  Wish he and Marilyn could be there with us, but schedules just didn’t match up this time.  We hope to see them in the fall when they head back to the RGV.

We’ll bid farewell to Bubba and family at Durango and continue into the southeast corner of Utah and Monument Valley.  This is a bucket list item for me, and we’ll be so close at Durango that I can’t pass up the chance to go there.  In this setting for so many western movies, we’ll be prepared for an Indian attack at any time in Monument Valley, but confident that John Wayne will ride to our rescue if we get in trouble!


After Monument Valley, we will turn south to Flagstaff, Holbrook, Show Low, and back into New Mexico, where we’ll go through Silver City, Las Cruces, Alamogordo and Roswell—all places we’ve never been--before re-entering Texas and making our way home.  We’re going to pray that Lucille’s air conditioner holds up in this sun-drenched part of the country, lest we have to call a wrecker to drag her to an air conditioner repair shop!  If any of you dear readers have suggestions for interesting places to visit on this route, we’d be delighted to hear from you.


In preparation for this trip, I’ve acquired a couple of new gadgets.  One is a Pressure Pro tire monitoring system, and the other is Microsoft Streets and Trips software.  The Pressure Pro will give me some peace of mind with Homer’s tires, which are hardly worn but have been on the trailer four years.  The conventional wisdom is to replace tires at five years, irrespective of the amount of wear they’ve seen, so this will probably be either the last summer for this trailer or the last for the tires.  I’ve begun to fiddle with Streets and Trips, and I like what I’ve seen so far.  However, I need to investigate extra databases I might acquire to show even more cool stuff while planning trips.
This weekend will bring about the final trip preparation and making arrangements for our mail pickup and house monitoring, things you full-timers don’t have to worry about any longer.  Grrrr.


We’ll keep you posted along the way, so TTFN!  (Ta-Ta For Now!)


346 days to retirement, if anyone is counting!

Lucille Gets Hitched!

Well, I have a new respect for bloggers who post every day; I don’t think I’ll be able to do that as long as I’m still working.  For me, it’s just so difficult to carve out enough free quiet time to construct a thoughtful piece that I think might be worthy for someone to read.  Sandy says I am way too obsessive about the writing process.  (I admit to a certain preoccupation in this area, as I may revise my copy a dozen times if I deem it to be imperfect in any way.)  I think she’s right; this is hardly the great American novel, after all, and I know I need to lighten up.  Old habits are hard to break, however, and it would be so painful for me to discover that I had split an infinitive or ended a sentence with a preposition and not caught it before publishing a post.

Last weekend went by much too quickly; Saturday involved a few minor projects and dinner at the Flying Fish, a favorite seafood joint in Fort Worth, to celebrate Sandy’s and my 34^th wedding anniversary.  Bubba, and old friend of many years, joined us, along with his daughter, BreAnn.  (I’ve written about Bubba and his family a number of times in earlier posts.)

The Flying Fish - A Ft. Worth Fave

BreAnn, Sandy and Bubba (and Lucille, of course)

Bubba approves of the new hitch.

This thing reminds me of a lunar lander or something!

Four air bags, two struts...Homer thinks he's riding on a cloud!

I was asked to be a front stage singer at church on Sunday, and that involved a sound and camera check at 7:00 a.m. and three services to follow, ending at 7:30 p.m.  It’s getting pretty exciting at First Baptist Dallas, as we are about to embark on a $120 million building program.  I’m told that’s the largest church-related building project in history.  (See a remarkable animation video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5_EifcV1eE)

Monday brought Lucille’s first experience pulling Homer since I acquired her a few weeks ago.  I must say, I was excited to see what the difference would be with the Dodge 3500 dually versus the old Hornet, a 2500 SRW.  Of even more interest was the function of the new Air Safe 25K hitch just installed by United RV Center.  I swallowed hard writing that check, but I was sold on the hitch after reading recommendations on several forums and after watching the convincing video on the Air Safe website.  http://www.airsafehitches.com/videos.html

Lucille proved very capable of her new assignment, purring happily along S.H. 121 to our house; the tow was a short one—about 10 miles—and the dual rear wheels seemed to add a good deal of stability under Homer’s 11,000 lb. load.  The star of the show, however, was the Air Safe hitch!  I set my rear view mirror to get a good view of the hitch and pin box, and I was utterly amazed at the oscillations of the pin shoe atop the Holland Binkley head floating on the air bag/strut assembly—oscillations that were absorbed entirely by the hitch’s air bags and not transferred to the truck chassis at all!  This should make for a far less fatiguing ride when towing, and I couldn’t be more impressed.

This marks the end of our progression from the original Reese hitch, with which we pulled Homer I and which nearly jarred our teeth out of our mouths, to a Pull-Rite Super Glide hitch and Fifth Airborne pin box used to pull Homer II (a really fine combination, by the way), to the current Air Safe hitch, an absolute marvel of engineering that, in my view, is probably unrivaled and worth every penny.  How much, you ask?  About four grand, installed.  (I told you I swallowed hard.)

The outfitting of Lucille is going nicely.  The Air Safe hitch was easily the most expensive of the upgrades so far.  I just finished installing shiny new step tubes underneath the pickup’s front doors, along with some mud flaps to protect Homer and other following vehicles; then I added extra gauges for EGT, turbo boost pressure and transmission temperature.  (A pilot can never have enough gauges.) Next will be a new satellite radio/GPS system, an exhaust brake and some engine intake/exhaust modifications.

Yes, I’m planning for Lucille to be with us for a long time, and I want her to have all the bells and whistles.  That’s the reason I bought this particular truck with its legendary Cummins engine.  The darned thing will probably outlast me if I treat her right!

Only 353 more days until we say goodbye to work and hit the road; the time is passing quickly, and there is much to be done!

Mason's First Birthday Party

The past week was pretty much a blur, as Sandy and I were preparing to play a support role for grandson Mason’s first birthday party on Saturday, June 5.  Mindy, his mom, has been nothing short of a dynamo in planning this thing, ordering all kinds of personalized party decorations from the internet, a custom-decorated cake, food, punch, party favors, balloons, streamers and the like, and all of it coming to my house!  Yes, our smallish new retirement home, kept lovingly in immaculate condition by Sandy and never remotely envisioned as a party barn, was to be invaded on Saturday afternoon by (gasp!) the Sweaty Masses.  It was not clear that it would ever look the same again.

I certainly didn’t mind helping host the party.  (It wouldn’t matter much if I did, as such things are normally decided at a higher levels of authority—namely, Mindy and her mother.)  It’s just that this house is not particularly well suited for entertaining a large group. 

I couldn’t help but marvel at the elaborate preparations Mindy had undertaken for this event.  Everything had to be just right, from the invitations to the color of the punch. 

I told Sandy that I hadn’t yet figured out why Mindy went to all the trouble when Mason, barely a year old, will have absolutely no recollection of any of these festivities. 

Sandy, never reluctant to explain all things unknowable to a man—which, in her view, is just about anything not classified as machinery—informed me that the party was not for Mason!  As I scratched my head, she put her hands on her hips and, with her nose angled upward, made that familiar sniffing sound that she usually reserves for people who have had their brains removed but still try to engage her in conversation.  


“It was for Min-dy,” she explained, drawing out the name as though she didn't expect me to understand words of more than one syllable.  


“She so loves that baby, and she’s ready to celebrate having raised Mason through a thriving first year while going to college and working part time—all without any meaningful sleep.” 

Finally figuring out the mysterious polysyllabic name of our daughter, I agreed that she had a point.   We are very proud of Mindy and the very positive spiritual and family growth that she and Tyler have experienced with little Mason over the past year, and we think she deserves whatever kind of celebration she wants.

All in all, it was a grand and happy occasion, and everyone seemed to have a good time.  Nothing else really matters, does it?

Proud Grandma (Mimi)

Proud Grandpa (Poppy) will teach Mason how to make the perfect salsa.

Great Aunt Brenda (Sandy's sister)

Good friends Marty and Cathy (well, Cathy anyway)

The Light Bulb Saga

Saturday was largely just a day to vegetate.  It's very dry and hot outside so, except for a little watering of the xeriscaping that is, uh, not supposed to need much water (according to Justin, the landscaper who installed it), I didn't do much. 

We had gotten a call from Explore USA RV earlier in the week about a 2010 Cameo 37CKSLS that had been returned by a customer after only a few months' use.  Since that is the model we're interested in, we decided to trek out to the dealership in Mesquite to see what it looked like.  I considered calling to see if it was still there, given the 30-mile distance from our house, but decided against it because I knew I wanted to go anyway, irrespective of whether that trailer was still on the lot.  Besides, I had to stop at Light Bulb Depot to pick up a replacement halogen light bulb for one of the overpriced light fixtures in the master bathroom.  

The bulb was a very unusual frosted one that looked like a suppository with a couple of silver wires forming a curly mustache on the end.  I knew that a specialty store would be the only one to carry such a strange bulb.
   

I sauntered in to the counter, behind which the attendant, a large man with a red beard and wearing cutoffs, was standing, looking annoyed at having to tend the empty store until four o'clock.


"Well, have I got a challenge for you," I said, and handed him the burned-out bulb.
  

He studied it for a moment and walked to one of the aisles where a jillion boxes of small bulbs were stacked to the ceiling.  He grabbed a nearby ladder and started climbing.  Near the top, he plucked out a box and said, "How many would you like?"

"I'll take two," I said, wishing to have a spare on hand, as there were three fixtures in the bathroom with this same bulb.


As he walked back to where I was standing, he said, 


"Now I have a challenge for you!"

"What would that be?", I asked.


Grinning, he said, "Paying for it.  That'll be 24 dollars for the two bulbs."

After the paramedics left (not really), I was able to pull the cash out of my wallet, but the bearded guy had to pry it from my fingers.  I think I'm still noticing one of my eyelids twitching at the thought of what could only be called 'robbery by light bulb.'
We continued on to Explore USA without incident, but I was wondering silently if shaving by candlelight would be so bad.



We weren't terribly surprised that the 37CKSLS they called about had already been sold.  It's a very popular model, and Clint, the salesman with whom we've been working, was quick to point out that the factory could make another one if I would merely leave them a check.  I asked him if being a smart aleck came naturally, or did he have to work at it.  Actually, we like Clint, an energetic and polite young man, and we feel we know each other well enough now to do some teasing.

We looked at several other Carriage models while we were there, but none, not even the more expensive Carri-Lites and Royals had the floor plan we liked in the Cameo.  We were also disappointed to learn that Carriage offers only leather living room furniture in its coaches.  Sandy and I have always preferred fabric, and this likely means that we will have to replace the brand new furniture as soon as we get the new rig.

After roaming around the RV lot, we headed for Wal-Mart, where we did our part to help the economy.  We used to hope to get out of that place for less than a hundred bucks; now, it's two hundred.  And we didn't buy any light bulbs!

This is What I Think I Know - About Planning

The older I get, the more appreciation I have for John Lennon’s famous observation that “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.”

Sandy is more of a planner than I am. She’s not necessarily a long-term planner, but she has a need to know at least what we are likely to be doing on any given day. While this is not necessarily crucial information for me, there are vastly important wardrobe and makeup considerations for her, and she can be very convincing as to the pitfalls that can accompany less than full disclosure in this area.

I must hasten to add, however, that I have noticed a significant lessening of these obsessions as we have been engaged in RV travel—and in fulltime RV living, which we did for several months while our current house was being built. Certainly contributing to her more relaxed mindset has been our interaction with fulltiming RV friends we've met like Ed and Marilyn and Gordon and Juanita—and many other cyber friends whose blogs I read, and who seem to have perfected the art of simplifying their lives.

As for me, I generally don’t do detailed planning, because there are so many unexpected events that can come out of nowhere to blow my plans to smithereens. Having had this experience far too often, I just tend to point myself in the direction of broadly-defined goals and depend on the good Lord to make it happen—or not, as He sees fit.

There are times, however, when one can’t avoid planning, as when I have to make reservations well in advance for some event for which a bunch of other people have had the nerve to make plans as well. Now this is incredibly annoying, but I grit my teeth and do it when absolutely necessary.

“So,” you might ask, “what is your point?”

Well, I mentioned in the previous post that I would elaborate on our future plans; I used the preceding narrative to explain why those plans may seem a little, ah, squishy. One plan that is not squishy is retirement. Sandy has already retired, and I will have reached that long-anticipated status no later than June 3, 2011—371 days from now, if anyone (like me) is counting. At that point, I will have been with the FAA for 15 years, with enough resources available, hopefully, to preserve the basics of life: Air conditioning and iced tea for Sandy, and a recliner and TV remote for me.

The main thing we’re having trouble planning is what retirement will ultimately look like in terms of living arrangements. Shedding the responsibility and expense of maintaining a house is extremely attractive to me. However, it’s not as attractive to Sandy, who isn't quite ready to embrace a totally nomadic lifestyle (yet). Having had this discussion on innumerable occasions, we attempted to reach a compromise in 2008 by building an inexpensive, low-maintenance RV port, which we chronicled earlier in this rag. It turned out exactly as we hoped, except for the “inexpensive” part. I'm afraid we got a little carried away.  So, what we'll probably wind up doing is part-timing for a while and, reluctantly, hang on to the house until my worrying and fretting about maintaining it reaches a saturation point with Sandy. The idea of finally being free of that responsibility makes me almost giddy.

Larry didn't help much today; he's an employee of mine whom I hired a few years ago into our facility. At the time, he and his wife, Pat, were fulltimers. They moved their fifth wheel into Treetop RV Park in Arlington, and after a year or so, decided to sell their RV and buy a house and small surrounding acreage out in the country. At the time, I asked him if he was sure he knew what he was getting into, as he and Pat had seemed very happy in their little rolling home. He was emphatic in his desire to get back to a roomy living space and the satisfaction of being a landowner. That was a couple of years ago.

Today, Larry came to work looking pretty haggard, and I asked him what was wrong. He said, “I had forgotten what a pain in the neck it was to keep up a house and big yard. Pat and I are selling our place and going back to fulltiming.” Go figure.

By the way, I have been considering making regular blog posts when we're not traveling, something I have been reluctant to do because 1) this is supposed to be a TRAVEL blog, and 2) a typical day in our life would hardly seem interesting to anyone.

I've come to realize, however, that most daily blogs I read reflect pretty mundane stuff, too, yet keeping up with them is still compelling, somehow. I think most people have a little voyeuristic streak or perhaps are just a bit nosy, and that's the reason for the popularity of reality shows, Facebook, Twitter and, well, these blogs.

So, I may give it a try. This is the first episode, which is admittedly overly analytical. What do you think?

Exit the Hornet, Enter Lucille

Yes, I know it's been ages since I've posted anything. But, nothing much has been happening.  Until now, that is:  There’s a new woman in my life—Lucille!


No, not that kind of woman—Sandy would hardly approve. Lucille is pretty, sleek and has big hips, but I would not want to cuddle with her on a cold night!


For those who don't have the curiosity (and who would?) to go back in this blog and find out the meaning of its title (“Homer and Lucille”) and its former moniker (“Homer and the Hornet”), I'll give you a brief primer here.


Sandy and I have always had a habit of attaching human names to some of our inanimate possessions. The reason for this is not clear, except perhaps to mental health professionals who may stumble upon this blog. I suppose one could postulate that such juvenile behavior can be ascribed to empty nest syndrome or the fact that we don’t have any pets. (It’s not that we don’t like animals; we just don’t like the bondage associated with their care.) However, this can’t be the reason, because we have given names to things since Sandy and I were hitched back in 1976, irrespective of children or pets in our home. Our vehicles have almost always had names, and the 2003 Dodge ¾ ton pickup we just sold was named “the Hornet” because it was painted a metallic green color and had a rather noisy diesel engine. The (new to us) replacement is a 2006 Dodge one-ton diesel dually (hence the big hips mentioned above), silver in color, and her name, “Lucille,” is reprised from several other trucks I have owned in the past. (I’m sure Little Richard would be pleased with the reference to his rock and roll hit of the fifties, but that was not a consideration in choosing the name; it just fits, somehow.)


I found Lucille, this unbelievably pristine truck, on eBay, advertised by a fanatical owner in Florida who kept it looking, literally, as the day it was built. (He would put it on a lift in his garage and wash the underside if he drove trough a puddle.) I bought it on the spot after flying down to look at it. This was typical of my vehicle acquisitions; I simply cannot bring myself to buy new, even though I can afford it. I would much rather find one like this—barely used—and save about twenty grand. Besides, this was the last year for the 5.9 Cummins engine before all the emissions junk got loaded onto the 6.7 engine in 2007. Perfect for many years of RV travel in my upcoming retirement!


Homer II, our 2006 Forest River fifth wheel, is our second fifth wheel and gets its name because it is a rolling home—Homer—get it? (I told you it was juvenile.) Our next rig—probably a Carriage Cameo—will also be named Homer--Homer III. More about Homer and our future plans in subsequent posts.