Jump to content

-Gramps-

Members
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Content Count

    591

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

    8

Blog Entries posted by -Gramps-

  1. -Gramps-
    Two weekends ago Diane, Teddy and I took the coach for a cold, wet weekend to Beth Page campground in Urbana, Virginia. From Portsmouth it is about a ninety minute drive up I-64 to State Highway 17. It would be a lot quicker if not for slow drivers and lots of stop lights. I didn't mind so much because we were not in a big hurry. We left around two in the afternoon on Friday and the nights festivities would not start until five.
    The purpose of this trip was to rally up with our fellow Colonial Virginians, our FMCA chapter and have our annual Christmas Party. It is a big affair for us. We have two catered meals, a big country breakfast on Saturday and a really good meal on Saturday night. After the meal is our traditional nasty Santa gift exchange. Gift steal is really what it is. The weekend starts on Friday night with happy hour at five.
    We arrived just at four o'clock at the office at Beth Page. Our arrival would have been earlier but I missed the turn into the campground. That meant driving down a dead end street, unhooking the tow, backing up the coach and then driving back to the campground where I better not miss the turn again. I didn't. I did remember that this was a dry camping weekend so I filled up the fresh water tank in Williamsburg on our previous trip out.
    We were led to our spot; a big pull-thru, hooked up, put out the slides (and they all worked great) and then Diane took off to the nearest food market to buy some peeled shrimp to take to the Happy Hour.
    While she was gone, I sat up Teddy's new crate in the coach. He took one look at it and moved to the other end of the coach. I took one look at it and thought that it was a big thing to have sitting behind the driver's seat. It couldn't be helped, our original crate was just a bit too small and we just couldn't leave him in it for more than short periods of time. Teddy, of course, didn't want to be left for any periods of time.
    Diane was not gone long. She came back in with a big bag of frozen shrimp, good sized ones, and I thawed them out for her, which took a few minutes. We changed into some clothes that were a bit more festive to match the occasion, packed up Teddy's Kong with some cheese, and then after he was safely stowed away, we hopped in the car and drove over to the conference center for the party.
    It was fun to catch up with some friends whom we had not seen in a few months. We don't get the chance to camp with our fellow club members all that often, and this year was harder than usual with Nickolas being ill, and my work schedule requiring so much weekend work.
    We chatted for awhile; had some drinks and I ate a ton of shrimp. Not just ours but some unpeeled ones provided by other people. After about three hours I left with Bill, one of our close friends to go back to our coaches. Bill and Micky were parked next to us. Diane and Micky decided to stay and play tile games for awhile, a long while but that was fine with me. I picked up a copy of Pursuing Happinessfrom a DVD collection provided by a Beth Page staff member and so I had something to keep me entertained for a couple of hours at least.
    I let Teddy out of prison, (it's not that bad), and he sat on my lap most of the time the movie was playing. Every now and then he would move over to the co-pilot's seat and look out the door window like he was hoping to see someone, who; I cannot imagine.
    The movie really got to me. Of course it did, because I am such a softy. It got to me the first time I watched it too, still I enjoyed it a lot. It is a movie that a lot of people should see.
    Around ten thirty Diane came back through the door. Teddy was very glad too see her. We sat together on the couch for awhile, and then I took him out for his last walk of the day. At eleven we hit the hay. Teddy, after providing us both with lots of good night kisses, curled up at our feet and in just a few seconds was asleep.
    We were up around six the next morning. I think I actually slept through the night. The fist time that had happened in quite some time. The hard cider I drank the night before must have had something to do with that, or maybe it was all the shrimp.
    We got dressed, took the pup out for a long cold walk and at about eight thirty we put him back in his crate and drove over for breakfast.
    It turned out to be a great one with eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, pancakes and good coffee. That last item is very important to Diane. Me, I am a hot tea drinker in the mornings when it is available and it was.
    After this great breakfast, the Colonials had their annual big business meeting. This one was important because we had a new president, along with other officers, and we were setting up our rally schedule for the next calendar year.
    After all the business yada, yada, yada, we were reminded about the coming evening's dinner, and gift "exchange". We all looked forward to it very much. The room was decorated really great, the tables looked nice and I was beginning to feel a bit Christmassy.
    We returned to the coach and I gave Teddy some eggs and bacon that I smuggled out in a napkin. Then I piddled around making some minor repairs to various things that needed repairing, fastening down some molding, tightening a screw, gluing down a floor tile, that kind of thing. Diane ran the vacuum while Teddy barked at it.
    I wasted my time trying to scan for TV channels. There was nothing close enough worth watching so the TV remained off. We sat and talked which was a good thing.
    We talked about what we would do for Christmas where we would go and how long we would stay there. We planned to go to St Augustine for New Years with our daughter Jeri, Tom and Dylan, then over to Fort Wilderness for five nights. (I may extend that if I can) and then back home. We would be back in the office, so to speak, on the 8th of January. We thought this would make a good trip and I am sure that it will.
    The big event for the day started at five, with a social hour, then dinner at six. Dinner was really good. We had a roasted pork loin, gravy, creamed potatoes, stuffing, rolls, long green beans with bacon, salads first, and then apple crisp for dessert. As I said it was really good. Then it was time for the gift giving/stealing exchange.
    It was a hoot. I got to go first, that meant that there was nothing for me to steal but I had my choice of all the unopened presents and then after all others had gotten their gifts, either by crook or hook, I could look em all over and steal any gift that had not already been stolen twice before. I opened a big box with a large elf in it. Diane liked it and no one stole it although there was a lot of stealing going on. Micky had to make four trips up to the gift table; she couldn't hang on to anything she got until she stole one herself. That steal was number two so her gift was now safe.
    At the end of the evening I exchanged gifts with Andy, a friend who liked elves and Diane collects snowmen, which is what he had, so the trade was good for both parties. The snowman is now sitting on our entertainment center and will most likely go with us to Florida next week.
    Lots of our friends expressed their sadness at hearing about the loss of our Nickolas. They also shared our joy in knowing that we had a new pup who was adjusting great. Lots of people, who saw us walking him, commented on how handsome he is. He is handsome in a long legged cute kind of way.
    The evening was over at around ten thirty. We made a quick getaway to our coach to let out the pup. We called it a day, retired to the bedroom to watch a Walton's Christmas special about two kids from England who came to America to escape the blitz. We both watched the whole thing without falling asleep.
    In the morning it was back to the meeting room for a continental breakfast, more good conversation, a round of goodbyes and Merry Christmases and then we returned to the coach. We did not want to leave right away. We choose to walk around some, clean the coach a bit more and around two we left for home.
    It was a good time.
    This past Saturday we attended my mother's eightieth birthday party. We also decided to make it our family Christmas party as well. We also had a nasty Santa gift exchange that went pretty well. I stole a set of electronic key finders that don't work so hot , but it doesn't matter, the evening was fun. We met at the Surf Rider, a local seafood place that has the best crab cakes you ever ate. Diane and I had ours on top of a Cesar Salad, along with Calamari, She Crab soup and hush puppies. There was Birthday cake for dessert. It was nice seeing my two sisters, my brother and all our extended families. My daughters could not be there but my grandsons did attend. We kept them for the weekend. I looked around the room and was surprised at just how large the family had grown from just two people who met so many years before. I was glad to be there. I will also be glad to see my daughter, her husband and our little grandson in just a few days. I think they will take to Teddy and he to them quite easily.
    Well I need to get to work. I am still sitting here in my pjs. I need to get to the bank and make a deposit and I have not done any Christmas shopping yet. There is no sense in putting it off to the very last minute. I also need to get the tree down from the attic. That should have been done days ago but my business has been, well, just busy lately.
    So to all my readers and that includes you too Todd..please have a very Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and my God bless all of you.
    Derrick
    "Gramps"
  2. -Gramps-

    Who Is Rescuing Who?

    By -Gramps-,

    Or is it Whom? Never mind.
    I can't remember the exact quote, but at the end of the movie Seabiscuit, there is a line something like this:
    We may have saved a banged up life, but the truth is we found each other and he saved us. The truth is we may have saved each other.
    The words printed above are most likely very misquoted, but still, that line describes what has been going on around my house for the last three weeks. Diane and I took a simple trip in the coach, found a dog who has been moved from place to place, took him in and our lives have gotten better, so much better since. So the question is: who is rescuing who?
    Mr. Beasley formerly named Bailey, now known officially as Theodore Beasley Parker but lovingly called and answers to "Teddy Bear"; is now a wonderful member of our little family.
    Teddy loves the cat, can't wait for Joel to get home each day, loves flushing birds out of the bushes in the back yard, likes to front paw counter surf (we are working on that), can't stand going into his crate, but settles down quickly, loves yogurt (don't tell Diane that I share it with him), loves to go on walks, needs to be groomed, loves Diane's heart shaped home made dog biscuits, and is fascinated by all her Christmas snowmen.
    According to his paper work, he is three years old, almost. He seems more like two. He has high energy, runs around the house, zooms around the yard, watches the Dog Whisperer and when a dog on the TV goes off screen, Teddy runs and looks behind the set trying to see where it went. He makes us laugh. He is medicine for our souls.
    Teddy has separation anxiety. He howls when one of us leaves the house. We are working on that as well. He doesn't like being groomed but Diane, with a handful of liver treats, is successfully helping him overcome his dislike of that activity.
    It is so obvious that the two of them are developing a very close relationship.
    There have been a few rough moments in the last three weeks but nothing all that dramatic. He snapped at the lady vet who was checking him out the day before we decided to adopt him. A trainer at the vet's office thought he might have some aggressive tendencies, but I disagree. I think Teddy is just simply afraid. He was boarded for long periods of time at a vet clinic while his owners traveled for days to football games and such. He has been left for weeks at Doggie Day Care facilities. I think he thought he was about to be left behind..again.
    We have no intentions of ever leaving him with anybody until he knows that we will be coming back to get him.
    The day after Christmas we are heading to St Augustine. The three of us are looking forward to that long coach trip. We will be celebrating the arrival of the New Year while walking the beach. The next day, we are off to Fort Wilderness for five days. Nickolas loved that place.
    I am sure that Teddy will too.
    Teddy had no idea how his life was about to change that Saturday after Thanksgiving when we saw this long legged dog for the first time. We had no idea how our lives would improve when we took him in to live with us.
    So the answer to the question is obvious. We are rescuing each other.


  3. -Gramps-

    Skipping Thanksgiving

    By -Gramps-,

    Skipping Thanksgiving. (A running blog entry)
    Wednesday:
    Diane and myself are skipping the traditional Thanksgiving this year. We are presently sitting in site 41 at the Anvil Campground in Williamsburg, Virginia. Skipping the traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings, along with all the work that involves, didn't sit too well with some family members. I say too bad!
    Diane and I need some time to ourselves. Time with less stress, less responsibility. We need a time to heal from the loss of our dog. We need some couple time. So the plan is to hit the shopping outlets on the morning of Black Friday, then to come back to the coach, and take a break. Friday night we have reservations at The Trellis, one of the best restaurants in town if not the best. Saturday morning we might explore the Colonial area some more or Yorktown or somewhere.
    Around noon on Saturday we are going to Richmond to visit a copper colored Cocker Spaniel named Beasley. He is presently in the care of a dog rescue group. Beasley, according to what we have been told, is three years old, in good health, has a great personality and he needs a home.
    Thursday:
    We arrived at the Anvil CG around one o'clock on Thanksgiving day. It was an uneventful morning getting the rig packed up. We didn't need to load up much food or clothes but we did pack some doggie stuff. That stuff included treats, a Kong, a collar and leash and some dog food. All this is a just in case thing. The most excitement was over some lost cash, that Diane put someplace safe, so safe she couldn't find it. After some intensive searching it was discovered in a file cabinet drawer.
    Once our mad money was stored away and the car hooked up we hit I-64 for Williamsburg. Forty minutes later we were in the campground looking at a white board in front of the office door. The white board had a list of Thanksgiving day arrivals and site numbers. Site 41 was the same site we were assigned to the last time we were here.
    It did not take long to make camp and soon after we found ourselves walking on Dog Street in Colonial Williamsburg. It is not really Dog Street, but Duke of Gloucester Street. Dog is the name the locals give it and Diane and I consider ourselves locals. The street was quite crowded with tourists, most of them toting cameras and many walking dogs. We could not help but notice that. We talked to a mother and daughter walking a couple of Springer Spaniels and visited a couple walking a pair of PBGVs.
    We bought a couple of ten dollar large souvenir mugs of hot cider (which come with free refills ) and I played Quoints, a game related to horseshoes, with one of the park interpreters, who played the character of Mr. Randolph ESQ., attorney at law.
    We were back in the coach around five and had Chinese food followed by a viewing of Eat, Love, Pray or is it Eat, Pray, Love? We also watched The Crossing, a great movie about the Battle of Trenton, that I paid too much for at the Visitor Center gift store. Oh well.
    Friday:
    Diane and I woke up early this morning with plans to drive a short distance to the Williamsburg Premium Outlets. Unfortunately I discovered that the hot water heater had not been turned on so I could not give my face a quick shave. I flipped on both the 12 volt and the 120 volt switches in order to do a quick warmup. The hot water heater would not ignite its gas burner. I spent the next half hour troubleshooting that problem without success.
    So off to the Outlets we went. The hot water heater problem would have to wait. The Outlets were not that crowded when we arrived at nine thirty in the morning but sixty minutes later the whole scene changed. The placed became a mad house. Some stores had lines of people waiting to get in. Well the Coach store did anyway. The crowds, I didn't mind them, but the lines I avoided including the ones where the final place in line was in front of a cash register. Diane stood in a couple of those lines but not me. We purchased a few gifts for ourselves, and I mean that literally, including a pair of Sketcher Shape Ups for each of us. I put mine on in the store and wore them the rest of the time we were shopping. Those things really will make your rear end and legs sore. We visited most of the stores and found a bunch of really good bargains but bought none of them; however I may go back and buy a one hundred and thirty dollar Tommy Bahama shirt for forty bucks. But maybe not...I am feeling kinda cheap this year.
    We walked around the place until dead tired, then back to the coach where I found a loose connection in the hot water heater compartment. Problem solved, we will now have hot water for showers before dinner.
    Dinner at the Trellis was really good. Diane had half a grilled free range chicken. I had crayfish fritters and Idaho Rainbow trout and hot cider spiked with really good Bourbon. We ate a lot. Afterwards we made another walk down Dog street and visited a few shops. I didn't buy a thing. After our walk we made a visit to the local Wal-Mart with its Red Box to return Eat, Pray, Love. The titile of the movie seemed very appropriate for this little venture.
    Richmond tomorrow. We shall see what happens. We could end up with a new four legged coach companion.
    Stay tuned, so to speak.
    Saturday:
    Diane and I woke with the dawn. Actually I woke much earlier than that. I tend to wake every hour on the hour. I don't need an alarm clock anymore. I have not used one for years. After Diane had her morning coffee, she made a frittata with Portobello mushrooms, onions and green peppers. I sprinkled some grated cheddar cheese on mine. After breakfast we got dressed and loaded up the car with our just in case doggy supplies, which included a blanket, water bowl, treats and a leash. Then we headed over to the Yankee Candle Outlet.
    The Yankee Candle outlet is a great place. It is not only a place to get really good bargains but it is just a lot of fun. We watched kids making hand candles. A hand candle is a wax model of a human hand, to be precise the hand of the person making the candle. With the help of a Yankee Candle employee, the hand is dipped into a number of containers holding warm paraffin each in a different color. After all colors are selected the form is removed from the hand somehow.....I didn't get a chance to see that part of the process. I did see a finished product and it is quite interesting. The Outlet is quite large and has one section dedicated to toys, another to clothes and one just for Christmas Villages. We both enjoyed roaming around the place a lot.
    After leaving Yankee Candle we visited the Orvis Sporting Goods outlet. I bought a shirt there that was marked down from ninety eight bucks to nineteen dollars with an extra thirty percent off at the register. Diane bought two tops that were over seventy bucks each originally. Our total bill was just over fifty dollars including the tax. I want to go back tomorrow and buy a dog bed and another shirt.
    Yes, we need a new dog bed for our new pupster. As I write this he is asleep on the coach couch. He has had quite a day and he is "dog tired".
    It is a one hour drive from Williamsburg to Richmond. We had arranged to meet Becky, who runs Angel Dog Rescue and Transport otherwise known as ADRATI.com sometime between one and two pm at her house in Richmond. We had to skip lunch in order to get there on time, but neither of us cared.
    We called Becky and let her know that we would be arriving just before one thirty. We arrived at the said time and parked in a school parking lot just past her house. As we walked up the street to meet her, we saw Beasley zipping around at the end of his flexible leash. It was obvious that he is a high energy dog. That turned out to be more than the case. Beasley loves to walk and when given the opportunity loves to run. He is extremely social and loves people, other dogs, cats and children.
    Once Becky filled us in on Beasley's history, and we watched him run around the back yard, we both had no hesitation about taking him back to the coach. We are now in the first day of a one week trial. At the end of that if all is well, he will stay with us. Day number one has gone very well. He rode in the car well, and loved his walk down Dog Street. Many people, once they saw his cheerful face, long blond legs, and curly floppy ears, came over to take his picture and ask if they could pet him. One lady in a wheel chair just fell for him and loved it when Beasley gave her a big sloppy kiss. Diane had always wished that Nickolas had the disposition to be a therapy dog. But he was just to shy around strangers. Beasley, however, is not shy at all. He might just be able to fulfill Diane's wish.
    It will take a bit of time for us to get to know Beasley (his full name is Mister Beasley) and I am sure that his transition to a new home will have a few bumps, but a few is all we expect. He appears to be a dog with a lot of confidence in people. His first owners may have given up on him but it is obvious that the people who have looked after him since have given him good care.
    We are very thankful to have this opportunity.
    Tomorrow we head home. We shall see how Beasley travels in the coach.
    I think he will do just fine.

    Diane and Mr. Beasley (His name will be changed but that is another story!)
  4. -Gramps-

    Better than Chocolate

    By -Gramps-,

    It is very quiet around the house. There is no tapping of little doggie nails on the hardwood floor. No tinkling of a metal dog tag against the side of the food bowl. There is no cheerful crunch of the doggie eating his breakfast.
    Life continues to go on. Diane will laugh at a joke, e-mailed to her from one of our friends, when it arrives in her mailbox. She will cry when a sympathy card, snail mailed by one of our friends, shows up in the standard mailbox. She also cries after taking a phone call from family or friends.
    Diane was really moved when Miss Vickie, owner of Salty Dog grooming, sent a card and a dish garden.
    I mostly mope around, feeling sorry for myself.
    It obviously isn't going to be easy to recover from this loss.
    I find myself googling puppy sites, wondering if we should consider another dog.
    Wisdom says it is too soon.
    Exercising wisdom, in and of itself, does not remove the pain of loss.
    I have heard that chocolate makes one feel better when one is hurting.
    If we stocked much chocolate around here, I would eat it all.
    I am hitting the Chips Ahoy pretty hard.
    Prayer is better for me than chocolate or cookies. It is easier on the waistline.
    I look out my office window at our motorhome and I can't help but think how much we will miss our pup the next trip out. Nickolas was such a large part of our life in the coach.
    He spent his last good week with us at a motor coach rally.
    Diane and I hosted the event. It was for the Workhorse Chassis Motorhome Club. WCMC is a FMCA International chapter. The rally took place at Camp Hatteras, in Rodanthe, North Carolina, the first week of October. Fifty nine coaches were in attendance. We called it The Sound and the Sea Rally.
    The rally was a lot of work for me and Diane. Fortunately we had a lot of help.
    We planned all the events for the week, decorated the tables with shells, hung large kites and windsocks from the ceiling and on the wall, provided printed name tags, ran the fifty/fifty lottery and we were a two-person complaint and problem department.
    We catered most of the meals, had lots of seminars, (including a Wi-Fi and computer security Q&A session provided by me) and, on the last night, my son's band "Long Division" played.Their set started out a bit rough, but once they adjusted the volume for a bunch of non-college folks, it ended up sounding really good.
    I booked an absolutely hilarious comedy lecturer who had the audience eating out of his hand!
    I happened to be the lecturer and my subject was my Rules for Owing a Motorcoach.
    Actually, I was pleasantly surprised at how well the whole week went. The formal surveys turned in by the attendees were mostly positive. The last day, I helped some people with coach problems get their jacks retracted, their steps in, and watched them pull away. I then went kite flying, four at once, with Nickolas sitting by my chair.
    Unfortunately, about half way through the week, we noticed that Nickolas was not feeling very well. We were not alarmed, but by the day after the rally, he was not doing well at all. After we returned home he just got worse until the end.
    Sometimes the two of us find ourselves just sitting and staring at each other. We both know what the other is thinking. Diane is holding Nickolas' favorite blanket, I am looking at his favorite spot on the floor wishing that my four-footed special someone could still fetch my slippers for me.
    I don't bother to go fetch them for myself.
    Diane and I continue to move forward. Each day gets a little easier, but our hearts are still raw to the touch.
    Today my daughter Christine is over with our grandsons and Bella the sweet Bulldog. Tonight we will watch Toy Story 3 and have a few laughs. Tomorrow, well, it will just have to take care of itself.
    This weekend we are hoping to return to Camp Hatteras. We will be attending our Good Sams Chapter Christmas/Thanksgiving party campout. Diane and I are looking forward to being with a lot of friends. It always helps to be with friends, especially RVing ones, when trying to get over the loss of a friend.
    I should know. This makes two for me.
    Gramps
  5. -Gramps-
    As I write this our precious Nickolas is fading from this world. I gave him the pill that will allow his suffering to end. It is the hardest thing I have ever done, but I had to do it. He has been sick for five days now. He could not hold down any water or food.
    This thing came on so suddenly. We rushed him to the vet where they could not find the cause. It would take blood work, more needles more pain and maybe even more surgery to even begin to find out what is wrong. .
    It was impossible to put our loving dog through that again. Something just didn't come out right after the surgery to remove that awful lump from his side. He couldn't control his bladder, he started to loose muscle tone, and he drank water by the cupfuls. We put him on PPA, a very powerful incontinence drug and that seemed to help. For awhile he seemed to make an effort to be his old self, but I could sense he was depressed and he started to fade before our eyes.
    I prayed constantly for him. I have not had a conversation with God like the ones I have had the last couple of days since my son was born. I almost lost Joel and my wife back then, but God answered a sinner's prayer and because of the combined work of God and the doctors, my son and wife were made well and whole.
    This time my prayer is not getting the response I hoped for. Nickolas just got worse. Does that mean that God is not listening? Does it mean he doesn't care to exercise just a little bit of His universe creating power to fix my little dog? I can't answer that in words. God is who HE is, faithful to the end. I know that He loves me, my wife, and my dog. Sometimes, in the midst of a tragedy a bigger thing may be happening.
    Our dog is so, so, sick but once again Nicolas is giving something special to me. He looks me in the eyes and I can see appreciation and love. I know that its there. I cannot make him whole but he trusts me and Diane to look after him. My prayer changed from "God heal him!" to God help me to help him.
    I will admit that I do not understand why my simple prayer is not given the answer that it asks for, but I have to look to God the same way Nickolas looks at me, with simple trust. That's all I can do. I am grieving, but if I get angry, then I loose more than just my pup; I loose my relationship with The God of the Universe who sent His Son to make things right between the Father and me. This will be Nickolas' last gift to Diane and me. She and I have held hands, held each other, and prayed together with more passion than we had in years. That is surely a good thing.
    We will rise above this loss, this huge loss. It will not be easy but it is what Nicolas wants us to do.
    A few minutes ago Nicolas asked to go out into our yard. He layed down in the grass, which is something he never does. I could see him smelling the air, the birds were singing and suddenly there were more of them than usual and Nickolas just watched them fly around him. I think he was saying goodbye to this life. He was preparing himself to leave this earthy place.
    Right now he is asleep on our deck. Unless God does work a mircle I do not expect Our wonderful dog to wake again.
    It will be so hard to live without our Coach Buddy, our friend, my wife's shadow, her constant companion. But live we will.
    So help me God.
    Goodbye Friend, you were so loved.
  6. -Gramps-

    At Rest.

    By -Gramps-,

    Nickolas is gone to the place where good dogs go. His life on this earth ended just the way he wanted it to end.
    In memory of him I reprise these words:
    The Human Whisperer
    Nickolas, the family pupster here!
    I asked Dad if he would let me post again. Last time, I hijacked his blog and posted on the sly. This time he said okay.
    I wanted to leave him and Mom a note. They may need what I write here one day.
    I am almost 85 years old now, in relative terms, and so I can say that chances are I have a little bit of time left, but only a little.
    I don't worry about the end of my life. Mom and Dad do that for me. They comment on how white my face is compared to how it used to look. They talk about how slow I am to get up from my nap in front of the TV. They don't like for me to wear myself out going up and down the coach steps.
    They concern themselves with how hot I am, because I pant a lot. Mom bought me this slick blue water-filled pad to help keep me cool. I am not crazy about it but I sleep on it, and that makes her feel better even if it doesn't do much for me.
    They really worry about a tumor that is growing on my left side. They talk about how much they hope it isn't cancer, but if it is, what they can do about it?
    Mom and Dad, especially Dad, could stand to learn a bit about life from me.
    Like I said, I don't worry. I don't worry about that lump or much of anything else.
    I don't give much thought to the squirrels that I can't chase around the back yard anymore. Actually, I never worried about them when I was younger, either. The moment one takes off up a tree, that's it for me. I find something else to think about-like breakfast.
    I can say for sure that life is far too short to spend time worrying about anything, except dinner.
    I love both of my people a lot. They have always given me a good life. I still have a good life even if things are changing. I can't hear much of anything anymore. I used to hear the brakes on Dad's old truck three blocks away. Mom was always amazed when I went to the door to wait for him, long before he pulled up in front of the house. Now I am sometimes surprised by him at the door instead of the other way around. But that is okay. I still follow him to his office desk, furiously wagging my tail, and he never fails to give my back a good scratch.
    Sometimes Dad is so tense when he gets home at the end of the day. I know it is my job to do something to help him, so giving the dog a good back scratching does as much, if not more, for Dad as it does for me.
    There was a time when Dad and Mom were saying something about Dad having a kidney stone. Dad was in pretty bad shape. I saw him on his knees next to his bed. He was sweating and moaning. The pain was so intense that Dad was starting to panic. I jumped up on the bed to be near him. I kissed his nose and then lay down.
    He put his hands on me and buried his face in my side. I did what I was supposed to do, I soaked up his pain. It took a little while but Dad calmed down and I could sense that he started to feel a bit better. I usually stick close to Mom, but Dad needed me, so I stayed right there with him for the rest of the day.
    During our last trip out in our coach (I like to call it the Bus) Mom and Dad watched this movie about a person who helps to heal horses. This person is called a horse whisperer. Dad says that I am a Human Whisperer. I am not sure what that means, but if being a Human Whisperer means being there for my people, reminding them that life should be lived mostly in the present and that love and kindness are what keeps us going, then that is what I am.
    I love my people. They are like gods to me. They are bigger and stronger than me and I trust them to look after me. I hope my love for them is a reminder that there is a greater power that is stronger and bigger than they are who loves them, too. I think it does.
    Many years ago we were on a camping trip, in a tent; this was before we got our fancy bus. It was a beautiful fall day and Dad grilled T-bone steaks for their dinner. The smell was great. I knew that they would share the best part of these wonderful smelling things with me.
    They would give me the bones.
    I was so excited to get one. Dad looked at me, happily chomping away, and then he looked at the mountains around us and the woods with all its bright colors.
    "This is just a bone", he said.
    "What?" Mom asked. "What are you talking about?"
    "This life and this world is just a bone" Dad said. "This is just a taste of what God has in store for those who love Him. We should learn to love life and Him more."
    When the end of my life finally comes, just before I take my last nap, I hope the last thing I see is the love for me in the eyes of my people. I hope the last thing I feel is my Mom rubbing my head and my Dad scratching my back. I hope the last thing I do for them is to whisper that I love them and that life is good, keep on living it well, and thanks for giving me such a good one.
  7. -Gramps-

    A Premonition?

    By -Gramps-,

    Yesterday morning started out normal, almost. I woke up with the memory of a disturbing dream. I was walking Nickolas, our cocker spaniel, down a long faded green hall. It reminded me of an old high school corridor, or maybe an old office building. It had a polished dirty brown vinyl tile floor. There were exposed fluorescent lights, the long two-lamp kind that flicker and make a lot of ballast noise. At the end of the hall was a metal door with a reinforced glass window in the top half. The bottom of the door had one of those metal kick plates. It seemed to be dented and had black marks on it. The door that opened into the hall was slightly ajar. The hall was long and Nickolas seemed impatient; he kept tugging at his leash. As the door got closer he suddenly jerked the leash out of my hand and went running for the door, with me right behind him, calling to him. Just as I was about to grab his leash he made it through the door, leash and all, and it slammed shut. I tried to open it but it was locked. The window, which had until now been dark, began to glow with a white light. I put my face up to it and could see a huge wall-less white space. There were many, many dogs in there, all kinds, most of them white, running back and forth, jumping around, some chasing each other. I desperately looked for my dog and caught a glimpse of him just as he was headed deeper into this space. I called to him but there was no reaction. I started kicking the bottom of the door and banging on the glass but it didn't do any good. The window went dark and I woke up.
    Diane was standing by the bed with Nickolas' leash in her hand. It was time for him to go to the vet to get his teeth cleaned and while under the anesthesia to also have this large fatty lump removed from his left side. Both these procedures were routine. He had been through it all before some four years earlier. Diane wasn't worried about it; she had been pushing me to get it done. My only objection was the cost, but then I object to the cost of most things in life. As I set there in the bed, the money wasn't what was worrying me.
    I reached over to Nickolas and said a quick prayer.
    "Do you want me to go with you?" I asked.
    "No, we will be fine... won't we, pup?" Diane responded as she snapped on the leash.
    "We are late, better get moving."
    An obviously reluctant Nickolas jumped off the bed. A few seconds later I heard the front door squeak and click shut.
    "I have a bad feeling about this," I told myself. However, it could just be an overactive imagination.
    At about 8:15 a.m., I was sitting where I am now, at my computer when Diane arrived back at the house. She told me that Nick would be at the vets until about 5 p.m. They were not sure when his procedure would start, but it might be early afternoon.
    At around 10 a.m. the phone rang. Diane answered it after seeing Churchland Animal pop up on the caller ID, which displays on our TV. I heard her talking and gathered something was wrong, so I went into the living room and sat down in front of her.
    It seems that they almost lost our dog while on the table. Usually the procedure is to give an injection to make him still and kill any pain, and then they administer a gas once the injection takes effect. They did that this time, but just after the injection his heart rate doubled. It went from 128 beats per minute to over 260 beats per minute. A momentary heart rate spike is not unusual, but this time his heart rate would not come down. After two minutes of this, even after the gas was started, they could not bring it down. They had to bring him out before his heart arrested. The vet, to use his words, was starting to feel a bit panicky himself. Nickolas gave him a scare, but by the time they called us his heart rate has started to come down and they expected it be back to normal shortly. He was alert, but panting a lot, and they wanted to keep him a few more hours to observe him. Diane asked a few questions, but they had no real answers to what happened. They could only surmise that maybe his heart had an electrical malfunction, or he had a reaction to the pain meds, although he had not had one four years earlier. The cause was just not known.
    Diane said thank you, hung up the phone, and broke down in tears.
    I was shocked, but then I realized I must have known something was going to happen.
    As usual, when I don't understand something, I jumped on the Internet and started searching. Could this have been caused by some medication that Nickolas has been taking? Or could he have an enlarged heart, a condition called DCM that cockers can get when they get older? What caused us to almost lose our best little friend?
    I don't know. I suspect it will not be easy to find out. I do know that God answered my prayer: He looked after Nickolas.
    Neither Diane nor I are prepared to live without him.
    The vet called back around 3 p.m., and this time I took the call. Nickolas' heart rate was back to normal, but the doctor said he would still like to observe him for a couple more hours and then we could come for him.
    After and anxious two-hour wait and a short drive to the vet's office, we picked up our pup at five o'clock. We first had a talk with the Doctor, who pretty much reviewed what he had told us on the phone.
    Nickolas came out of the back, very happy to see us, and we were overjoyed to see him.
    He hopped in the car, and we went to a local Red Box to rent a comedy, because we needed a laugh after the day's events. We also picked up a cooked chicken and some side salads at the local Kroger. The smell of the chicken drove Nickolas, who had been on a fast from the night before, crazy. I think that was a good sign.
    As of this morning our dog isn't quite is old self yet. He seems a bit groggy and tired. It's no wonder, after what he has been through. He is probably wondering what he did to deserve a day like yesterday, but like most dogs he will forgive us pretty quickly.
    When we leave on our next RV trip, I am sure he will be where he always is, on his mom's lap, looking out the big window at the passing world.
    Thank God for that.
  8. -Gramps-

    Still Fighting

    By -Gramps-,

    This is a very strange thing to report, but Nickolas is back at the small animal hospital at NC State School of Medicine. It has been a long and very weird night.
    It seems that the pain pill I gave our dog, a dose big enough to knock out a full grown man, didn't do much to our dog but allow him a couple hours of very deep sleep. Diane who had been keeping vigil beside him, out on the deck the whole time wating for him to finally slip away, came to the door to speak to me. I was looking out the door and suddenly Nickolas popped up his head, turned and looked at Diane, then got up and came to the door. She and I just stood there in shock. I opened the door and let him in, and he went immeadiately to his water bowl and slowly drank from it. Then he looked up at us, laid down and went to sleep. A real sleep.
    Diane and I looked at each other. I had no idea what to do. About an hour earlier, just after we decided to end his suffering, I went out to the coach to get my camera for one last picture. While out there I thought of how empty the coach would be with out Nickolas in it. I lost it and told God just what I thought of my pup dying. I hope the neighbors didn't hear what I was saying, coach walls are not all that thick, but at the moment I was reminding God of his abliity to heal a small dog, of all the prayers that had come from my wife and myself and if nothing else, I still needed Him to get me through this.
    I looked at Nicolas sleeping peacefully, obvioulsy there was still some life in him and he was not as ready to leave us as it appeared.
    I just stood there in a kind of stupor and then I told Diane, " That's it, we are going to take him to the animal emergency hospital right now.....grab your purse."
    I made a phone call to the hospital, told them of our situation and they said bring him in ASAP.
    We did, and to make a long story short, after a lot of fluid, a pain injection, and blood work and some other things, we took him back to NC State where he is presently in a good but guarded condition. With medication to treat his pancreas, iv fluids, and iv supplements, he has the chance for a surgery free full recovery.
    What else can I do except thank God.
    I will keep all of you, the members of my Coach Family posted.
  9. -Gramps-

    Why Don't He Write?

    By -Gramps-,

    I know someone must be asking that question. I have asked it myself. I don't have a good answer. The bad answer is that there have been lots of distractions the last few weeks. The first distraction being caused by the need to look after a pup named Nickolas.
    Diane and I decided to subject him to some pretty extensive surgery that, thank the Lord, appears to be mostly successful. He is missing part of three ribs, some chest wall and a big malignant lump on his side. I have been amazed at how quickly he has recovered. However, a problem still remains. The shock of surgery seems to have made an old dog older. Since coming out of recovery he has an extreme thirst, and as a result of that, well, he doesn't always make it outside on time, and he can't make it through the night at all without waking up wet the next morning. That has required us to put him to bed wearing some special waterproof doggy jockey shorts. Nickolas doesn't like the idea that he is wearing diapers, so we don't use that word around him if we can help it.
    Our pupster looked awful after surgery. His back and side were shaved and he had staples running from his belly to his back. People looking at him just cringed. When I looked at him, I just hurt. We lived full-time in the coach for almost 10 days at Deer Creek after he came home. He spent four days at NC State School of Veterinary Medicine in Raleigh, North Carolina. We needed to keep him in a confined space. No, running, no jumping and no climbing stairs was allowed. He went in and out of the coach on a portable ramp. It was not fun for him or us.
    Things improved rapidly and he received a good report on his last visit to the vet school, which took place on our way home from Galax. We spent the night in the State Fairground campground. We were all alone in that huge place. It was just across the street from the school, so staying there could not have been more convenient.
    Since coming back to our stick house, things have been very busy. Lots of phone work and customer service calls (nothing new there). We have also had to make lots of follow-up calls to vets, trying to cure our dog's incontinence problem. Now we are looking at the possibility of Cushing's disease, or Addison's disease or diabetes or maybe just old age. No one knows for sure, even after a lot of blood work, urinalysis and other things that keep draining funds from our retirement account. Poor Nickolas remains in an agitated state, never knowing when the leash being clipped on means that the car will take him to some location where unpleasant things happen.
    I have a theory that Nickolas needs to be left alone. Let him get over the loss of ribs, muscle, and having a lot of pain and confusion. Treat him like a normal dog and he will heal himself.
    No one really liked my theory, for awhile. Finally the decision was made to treat his "leaking" problem with drugs and see how that goes.
    We have a FMCA international rally to attend this weekend. It is the Workhorse Chassis Motor Club rally and I am the host and rallymaster. I have been working on this rally for over a year and I know that Nickolas is looking forward to it as much as I am. The rally takes place at Camp Hatteras in Waves, N.C. Nickolas loves a good romp on the beach and, by golly, I'm going to see to it that he gets one.
    He has comtributed so much to our lives.
    The whole point of his surgery was to try to make Nickolas' life last a lot longer. I am praying that his life continues to be a good one.
    I owe Nickolas at least that much.
    Gramps
  10. -Gramps-

    The Rally

    By -Gramps-,

    When I write a blog entry about a current trip in our coach, I tend to just write it in a matter of fact style, like the following:
    Well a lot has happened in the last week. Diane and I hosted an FMCA chapter rally at the Deer Creek RV Resort in Galax, Virginia during the last weekend of July. The campground Is located just across the golf course from our home at the Deer Creek Motorcoach resort. Some people call the golf course Derrick's Nine Holes, because I am the person who plays there the most.
    We had fifteen coaches from the Colonial Virginians show up for the rally.
    The rally went great, for the most part. We arrived on Wednesday evening and our fellow Colonial Virginians started arriving on Thursday afternoon. Thursday morning Diane and I did a lot of shopping at the local Wal-Mart (where else would we go?) for lots of stuff to provide a full meal for everyone on Friday night. We left the store with hamburgers, hot dogs, sausages, potato salad, cole slaw, baked beans, cookies and a lemon cake. Our co-hosts Bob and Stephanie planned breakfast for Saturday and Sunday Mornings. For Saturday morning breakfast, we had French toast sticks, pancakes, sausage, and fruit. Sunday was a continental breakfast with Danish, Bagels and Saturday's breakfast leftovers. Saturday night everyone went to a wine and cheese party at the Deer Creek Motorcoach Resort (Not the one in Florida) clubhouse. That was followed by a pot-luck supper. We had a golf tournament planned for Saturday Morning but due to drizzle and fog we had to cancel. Those who planned on playing didn't mind. We all enjoyed the cool mountain weather, which was a nice change from the terrible heat back home.
    Not much emotion or story in the above. Let me try to add some of that for you.
    I have been working pretty hard lately. No days off for some six weeks and that includes July fourth. Even with all those work days I have still been under quite a bit of stress to get it all my projects done. I know, that seems to be a recurring theme in my blogs: Stress. It seems to be the nature of my business and my nature to let stress sometimes get the best of me. I am working on correcting that. I would like to save the best of myself for my God, my dear wife, my kids, my rving friends as well as other friends and of course, my dog.
    Unfortunately there wasn't much of the best part of me on the day we left for the rally. We pulled out a bit late in the morning, and just as we hit the road I discovered, actually Diane informed me, that she turned off the fridge because it was alarming. There was no propane flowing to it, even though our tank was full. At the same time I discovered that the dash air was not cooling. These two problems started to make me hot. I asked her why she didn't tell me this before we left. She said she didn't want to bother me, I was getting customer calls all morning and she didn't want to add to my problems.
    Add to my problems? No dash air, the propane is not working? How could that add to my problems?
    I knew that the immediate, but temporary solution to this was to turn on the generator. This would allow us to run the fridge and the roof air, but all I could think about is how much is this going to cost me to get these problems fixed? I stared to over think this situation and this fueled my soon to get worse state of mind. After all it was going to be one of the hottest days of the year with no dash ac. I just got back from a long trip to Elkhart to fix the slide and now two more problems. When will it end?
    Maybe my blood sugar was low from skipping breakfast. Maybe I was just worn out from all the work pulling cables through hot fiberglass insulated ceilings for days on end. Maybe it was because this has been a tough year to find work, get it done and then get paid for it. Maybe it was because I was worried about our dog, who was scheduled for surgery the Friday after the rally. Maybe it was all the above.
    I lost it. I ranted about my business, the coach, and only God knows for most of the drive to Galax. Diane, bless her heart, just sat there and hardly said a word. She just let me vent. I don't remember most of what I said. I am sure it wouldn't be worth repeating anyway.
    When we started to climb I-77 just north of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, I finally calmed down. I looked over at Diane and apologized for being such a jerk. She had tears running down her cheeks and she managed to mouth the words, "its okay" to me.
    I didn't say another word until we reached the gate to the Motorcoach Resort. Diane pushed the remote, the gate opened, we drove through and it was like a switch was thrown. I started to feel better. We set up "camp". It was after six thirty by the time we finished. We went to dinner with our neighbors Judy and Gordy. They both noticed that I was looking a bit ragged, and Diane calmly told them I had been working hard lately, to put it mildly.
    For most of the night I lay awake thinking about the day's drive.
    The next morning I was swamped with phone calls from multiple offices belonging to one customer. Diane and I were at the Wal-Mart at the time, I was shopping for golf balls when the first call hit me. The problem was not with my equipment, it was with their internet provider. I told them that, but they wanted me to take care of it because they didn't know how to talk to the great big nasty internet company.
    It took me until eleven pm that night making phone calls, but I did get the ball rolling to solve the problem for them.
    Friday I was determined to give all my attention to the rally. I managed to do that. I helped people check in, set up tables, did a bit of decorating, set up a sun canopy and my grill. I cooked forty some hamburgers while Bob did the dogs.
    We had a great meal for everyone. The food was good and the service was quick. Afterwards we talked about the golf and mini golf match, and reminded everyone where Saturday's meal would be served. I was beat and left for the coach while Diane played tiles.
    Saturday's breakfast was great. Saturday's weather wasn't. It rained all day. Actually I think it rained the next three days off and on. I wanted to have the golf match but what's a little rain when you are in the Blue Ridge Mountains? We all made the best of it. Some people went sightseeing; some just sat around and talked. I sat around and listened to the people chat. I wanted to be reminded that the world isn't just about me. That is one of the ways owning a coach has improved my life, by allowing me to be involved in other lives outside of work. It's like medicine to me. I need to remember that.
    Saturday night we had the wine and cheese party. I answered questions about Galax and the surrounding area. I also answered questions about the resort.
    After dinner I provided some minor entertainment. I told them all about my FMCA blog with its rules for owning a motor coach and then I read rule four to them. I will remind you that rule four is "Owing a motor coach is a never ending learning experience". Rule four also includes a bunch of one liner, truisms, that some people find quite funny. Fortunately all the guests at dinner did the same.
    Sunday morning was foggy but not for long. By noon most everyone had left. Everyone said they had a great time and hoped to return next year.
    Monday, August second, was my fifty seventh birthday. The best thing about it was that I wasn't working. We didn't do much that day but sit around the coach, do a bit of walking, and we went to dinner in town. The food wasn't all that good but the company was great.
    The next day Diane and I drove into Sparta North Carolina and found something that we both liked. A store with Columbia clothes on sale for half price. I bought a bunch of nice things. We came home and ate leftover hamburgers, watched a bit of TV and called it a day.
    Wednesday had a different feel about it. Diane wanted to do laundry and clean up the coach a bit. She planned on leaving the next day for Raleigh, NC to stay with her cousin Elaine. From there she would take Nickolas to the NC State School of Veterinary Medicine. Nickolas was scheduled to have a malignant tumor removed from his side. This could be an extensive operation with loss of some chest wall and some sections of ribs.
    I planned on staying behind to work on the Motorcoach resort's WIFI. That was okay by me considering how much I dislike hospital waiting rooms.
    I had already ordered a new high powered access point that hopefully would broadcast to the fartest end of the resort. Diane left with Nickolas just after lunch, so I found myself all alone.
    I made arrangements to borrow an extension ladder and so just after Diane left I was at the top of it mounting the new transmitter. All was going okay until a big thunderstorm came out of nowhere. Lightening chased me off the ladder. The rain started coming down in buckets and then we lost power.
    I managed to mount the transmitter but without power I was done. My WI-FI install would have to wait.
    Fridays are usually pretty quiet for me. Not many phone calls. The Friday of Nickolas surgery was no exception. This was a good thing. I wasn't in the mood to talk much anyway. I thought our pup was going to be in the OR early, but it didn't happen until six that night. He came out around nine. Diane called me to say that everything went well. The doctors wanted to keep him there until Monday. My time in isolation would be a bit longer than expected.
    I didn't do much the next two days. I finished a book, watched some movies, made some minor repairs to the coach roof and unstopped the propane line. That was about it.
    Diane and Nickolas arrived back here at Deer Creek about two hours ago. The poor pup looks a bit scarred and stapled but he is doing well considering.
    We will be here a few more days. We need to give the dog a bit more time to recuperate before we head back to the heat in Tidewater. Once we get there its back to business, the coach will stay parked for a couple more months. I do need to get some Freon for the dash AC.
    Didn't I mention that? According to our resident RV doctor, there is nothing wrong with the dash AC that a good dose of Freon can't fix. It seems I got upset over almost nothing.
    I am working on that.
  11. -Gramps-
    It was an amazingly (is that a word?) fun thing to watch that ball zoom over the fence, but I, we, still have a game to win.

    The Last Inning (The Giants and the Phillies-Part Two)
    Once again, I have to corral all my players back into the dugout. They are still whooping and hollering and Chris is really pleased with himself.
    "Did you see that coach, did you see that? Blam! Right over the fence. Sorry I hit your van, coach."
    I hadn't noticed that the ball bounced off MY car!
    "Hey, that's okay," I said. "I'm just glad that you hit it out of the park, it was great. Now take a seat and let's win this game."
    Chris ducks inside of the dugout, but before he sits down he grabs the wire fence, gives it a good shake like a caged animal and yells at the Giant's pitcher.
    "Hey Pitch! That's what you get for laughing at me!"
    The whole park hears that outburst.
    I can't let that go, so I turn around.
    "That is not necessary, Chris. We don't gloat. It is not good sportsmanship. You will apologize to the pitcher now."
    "Sorry Pitch!" Chris yells again.
    "Coach, you need to get your team under control!"
    "No problem Blue, I am taking care of it."
    I ask myself, "What is the ump's problem? He seems to be a bit slow today."
    "Chris, after the game you make sure you shake the Pitcher's hand. Understand?"
    Chris, looking a bit deflated, sits down.
    The ump walks over and hands something to Chris.
    It is the home run ball.
    "Great hit, kid."
    Chris's face lights up.
    "Thanks, Ump!"
    The ump nods and says "Batter up!"
    I send Jeffery to the plate and tell him to go get a hit.
    Jeffery, grinning, jogs over to the batter's box.
    "Play Ball!" yells the ump as he pulls down his mask.
    Jeffery stands there and takes six pitches, three are strikes, without moving his bat a bit.
    Bottom of the fifth
    Phillies 8, Giants 2
    I do not want to let my team relax too much. This is Little League. Earlier in the season the Cubs scored seven runs on us in the top of the first. We beat them 20 to seven. We could have scored more if the 13-run mercy rule had not stopped us. Things can happen, so I just want to shut the Giants down and end this.
    As Joel heads out to the mound I tell him to keep on pitching the same way he's been doing it. He nods at me.
    The Giants leadoff is a big lefthander. Joel throws the first pitch a bit outside, and the batter fouls it back. Joel throws to the same spot. This time the kid looks at it.
    Ball one.
    Chris, who is now catching for Joel, shifts and gives Joel an inside target. Joel throws; the batter swings and takes it for a base hit over CJ's head to right-center field. Both Jeffery and Ian make a mad dash for the ball.
    I swear, because they argue over who is going to get it. By the time they figure it out, the runner is way past first.
    Ian tosses to CJ, who turns toward third, but there is no play.
    The leadoff is safely on third.
    "Shake it off Joel, no big deal, just get the batter!"
    Giving up a triple does not faze Joel. He throws his next three pitches for strikes. The batter goes down looking at the third one.
    One down and two to go. Play is at first but we have to guard the plate.
    The next batter goes for the first pitch. He hits a high pop over the first base line. Chris is on his feet in a second, follows the ball and catches it in front of the bleachers. He turns and looks at the third base runner.
    Two outs and one to go.
    I don't know how Joel is doing it, but he bears down and throws three hard inside fastballs. He makes the batter look like a deer caught in the headlights. Three pitches, three strikes, backwards K.
    The Inning is over.
    That triple was the best hit the Giants have had all day and Joel made sure it counted for nothing.
    Top of the Sixth
    The Score is still Phillies 8, Giants 2.
    Shawn leads off. He fouls the first pitch (good for him!) and then takes four straight pitches, all balls.
    Jonathan is up next. First pitch is a ball, second pitch outside for ball two. The third pitch hits my batter right in the helmet. It doesn't bug him a bit as he jogs happily to first.
    The pitcher and Zac get into a bit of battle. Zac fouls off the first two. The pitcher throws two for two balls. Zac fouls off another one and the pitcher heaves two more pitching errors. Zac heads to first.
    WC virtually repeats Zac's at bat and earns a walk with no place to put him.
    Shawn comes home.
    Phillies 9, Giants 2
    TJ walks on five pitches, and Jonathan scores run number 10.
    Ian, well Ian just stands there and swings and misses the last pitch he gets, the third one.
    The Giants have one out on us. They are now facing the top of our order with bases loaded. Not good for them. Not good at all.
    The Giants pitcher knows things are not good and that knowledge must make him really nervous. His first pitch hits Matt in the side, and he reaches first as Zac crosses home plate.
    Phillies 11, Giants 2.
    Matt is on first, TJ on second and good ole WC on third. CJ, who is on deck, moves to the plate.
    I am standing behind the backstop just in front of the first base side dugout. I can see WC on third base and I am watching him and my other runners. They are set and ready to run on contact.
    CJ can hit and I know he wants this one bad. He fouls the first pitch. He hits the second one to the outfield past first base but it lands foul.
    Everyone on my side of the field is yelling so loud it hurts my ears.
    The next throw is in the dirt. The catcher scrambles for the ball. The pitcher runs in to cover the plate.
    My third base coach is waving WC home, but he hesitates.
    What is he waiting for? Run!
    WC breaks for home but that seconds hesitation may cost him.
    The catcher throws the ball to the pitcher, who steps in front of the plate just as WC runs into him. They go down together. The pitcher comes up showing the ball.
    "He's out!" Yells blue.
    WC gets up and starts arguing with the ump.
    "He was holding me!"
    I walk over as my third base coach comes running in, grabs the umpire and points back to the Giant on third base.
    "Ump, he grabbed my runner's shirt! WC would have been safe!"
    The Giants coach is now out of his dugout and we have a real "situation" here.
    "Come on, Ump, this is crazy."
    My base coach is not going to take this.
    "Ump, I am telling you. My guy was interfered with."
    The Ump looks at everyone.
    "I didn't see it. The runner's out!"
    WC looks very unhappy. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it toward third base.
    The Ump takes one look at that and tosses him out of the game for unsportsmanlike conduct.
    My base coach just shakes his head. My parents and players are booing the umpire.
    I tell everyone on the bench we still have one out left and the bases are loaded.
    I tell WC that he did great the whole game, but he should not throw his helmet or his bat.
    He tells me he is sorry.
    I was feeling bad about the Giants situation, but after treating WC like that, I have lost my sympathy.
    First base is open, with two outs.
    I grab CJ.
    "Look, it's 1 and 2, with two outs. Get on first anyway you can."
    "You got it, Coach."
    CJ is a team player. I know he wants the big home run, but now he settles down to business.
    The pitcher doesn't. He throws four straight balls. CJ is on first, bases are loaded again.
    "Way to watch em CJ!"
    Joel is up. He wants to round the bases and he will wait for the pitcher to make a mistake again.
    It is a battle, but Joel has the first pitch advantage. It is a ball way outside. The second one Joel fouls off. He fouls off the third. The count is 1 and 2. The fourth pitch comes in, low and inside, ball two.
    Joel steps out of the box. He adjusts his gloves, takes a couple of swings and steps back in. Here comes the pitch, way high for Ball three.
    The Giants coach calls time. His pitcher walks over to the base path. I can't hear what is being said but both the coach and his player look agitated.
    They don't want another walk, they only need one out, so they need to put the ball in play and get the easy out.
    Here we are again, 3 and 2. Pitcher throws and Joel fouls it. Pitcher throws again, same result.
    The tension is thick in the air, spectators on both sides are yelling to their players. Everyone is on the edge of their seats, waiting for the next pitch.
    This game is really fun. My son is up to bat. What could be better than that?
    The next pitch is slow and hangs over the plate. Joel hits it and runs for first. My base runners take off at the same time. It is a long, slow fly into left right field. It lands between the two outfielders; both are running for the ball. By the time they get there Joel is halfway to second base. TJ crosses home plate. The Giants second baseman is frozen on the base path. Joel pushes him out of the way and crosses second. Matt, between second and third, needs to pick it up or Joel is going to run into him and CJ. I see the throw coming in as the second baseman wakes up. He takes a couple of steps into the outfield to catch it. Joel is almost at third. Matt and CJ make it home.
    My players start pouring out of the dugout.
    The Giants bench is yelling to the infield.
    "Throw it home! Throw it home!"
    Joel rounds third. He might not make it! The throw comes in but it is way too high. It sails over the catcher's head.
    The Phillies rush home plate and surround Joel as he crosses it. The folks in the bleachers are jumping up and down. The guys practically carry Joel off the field.
    Phillies 15, Giants 2.
    We have a 13-run lead. Mercy Rule is in effect. The game is over.
    Not quite yet.
    The Giants coach rushes out of the dugout yelling at his catcher, who has retrieved the ball, to tag the plate. He is claiming Joel didn't touch home. Joel says he did. Joel's team was all around him, so I couldn't see the plate at all.
    The Ump just stands there.
    "Blue, I'm telling you he didn't touch the plate." says the Giants coach.
    I am thinking that I would never pull this kind of stunt on his team. There is no way that the ump is going to call out a kid who just scored an inside the park grand slam.
    "Runner's out!" The Ump yells.
    "Come on Ump, he ran all over that plate and everybody knows it!" My third base coach is getting mad.
    The Ump has made his call.
    "Play Ball!"
    Back in the dugout I lean down to Joel.
    "You did step on the plate didn't you?"
    "Yea coach, I did. I know I got a home run ... but its okay, we are having fun, let's just play ball."
    "So what you are saying is; let's give them one more at bat and show em what we are made of?"
    "Yea, coach, we don't let up, Joel will get em!" says Matt.
    I am very proud of my team and we are having fun.
    What could be better than that?
    "Okay. Phillies hit the field!"
    They run out of the dugout with a yell. A couple of parents come over to me, including Diane.
    I walk with them back to the bleachers and shrug my shoulders at the parents.
    "Hey coach, what are going to do about that?" one father asks me.
    "Nothing, the guys want to keep playing."
    They did. With his team yelling the whole time and the Phillies fans adding to the noise, Joel worked three Giants batters, including two from the top of the order, to a 2 and 2 count before he struck them all out. The last two went down without swinging. With the last out the team gives Joel a hugh cheer.
    The game between the Giants and the Philles is now officially over.
    Phillies win 14 to 2.
    The scorekeeper from the Giants walks over to Diane to compare scores.
    Diane looks at him.
    "I don't know how you are scoring it, but my son got a grand slam."
    "Yeah, he did and he also got three up and three down, quite a kid you have there."
    "Thank you" is her smiling response.
    Joel got his grand slam (off the record), and Chris got his big home run. I coached a game that, obviously, I would never forget.
    Years later, a few days after Joel was graduated from William and Mary, Diane, Joel, Nickolas and myself were staying in our motor coach at the Stone Mountain RV Resort outside Atlanta, Georgia. One day, during our stay, at around 5 p.m. Joel and I were sitting just above first base at Turner Stadium (named for my old boss) in Atlanta. We were watching the Braves take on the Florida Marlins. It wasn't a very exciting game but it was a beautiful June night. Like that time from years before, I was at a baseball game with my son. We were having fun.
    What could be better than that?

  12. -Gramps-
    One of the things that is on my Motor Coach Bucket List is to travel to as many Major League baseball parks as I can.
    I love the game of baseball. Like motor coaching, baseball has many metaphors for life. I have loved the game much, much longer than I have loved the rving lifestyle.
    I have been to a number of major league games. My first one was a weekday night game in late spring of 1989. It was the first home game of the Cincinnati Reds after the Pete Rose Scandal hit the news. There was another big story about him on the day of the game. Although he was a player as well as the manager of the Reds, he never came out of the team's dugout the whole night.
    The Reds were playing the Mets that night. The highlight of the game for me was a high and hard Darryl Strawberry foul ball that landed a few rows behind me, bounced off an empty seat then careened off the left arm of my seat and landed in a bucket of popcorn belonging to a young lady a few levels below me.
    I still regret not catching that ball that the young lady never saw coming. I know she never knew what hit her by the volume of her scream as the ball knocked the bucket off her lap while scattering popcorn over everyone seated next to her.
    I would have liked to take that ball home to Joel, my four year old son.
    Nine years later, Joel, then thirteen, my oldest daughter Christine, her then husband Brent, Diane and I were sitting just above the left outfield wall at Yankee Stadium. We were munching on hero sandwiches and drinking ginger ale as the Yankees played the White Sox.
    We got a kick out of the Yankee fans heckling left fielder Albert Belle, at that time the highest paid player in baseball.
    The sound of "ALbert...ALbert!" coming from some forty thousand voices at the same time made it pretty obvious that he was not popular in New York.
    We got a bigger kick witnessing then Yankee Darryl Strawberry hit not one, but two, two out-two strike home runs.
    The shouts of "DAR-RYL DAR-RYL!" from the same forty thousand voices made it obvious that he was very popular in New York.
    The Yankees won that night. You got to love the Yankees. You got to love their fans even more. Some may argue, but I believe the Yankees have the best fans in the world.
    Two days earlier we were at a night game in Philadelphia.
    The Phillies were still playing at the old hot and stuffy Veteran's stadium. The Braves were in town and I swear there were more fans rooting for them than for the Phillies. After watching the way Philadelphia played that night, I understood why.
    In 1998 it was hard to love them Phillies.
    In 1997 Joel, Diane and I attended a Baltimore Orioles game and watched Cal Ripken keep his teammates entertained during a rain delay. The Orioles were playing Oakland. Mark McGwire was a member of the A's then and what a batting practice display he put on that day. In just a few weeks he would be traded to the St Louis Cardinals and go on to lead the majors with 58 home runs that year.
    Before the game Joel and I visited the Babe Ruth Museum. That is a place you should not miss when in Baltimore.
    In 1998 I was at an Arizona Diamondbacks home game and watched Randy Johnson, throwing a lot of nasty side arm sliders, strike out fourteen Padres in a row and hit a standup double. It goes without saying that he won that game.
    May 24th 1998 Diane, Joel, Christine, Brent, and I were sitting in the mezzanine section of Shea Stadium watching the New York Mets play the Milwaukee Brewers. At eleven that morning the game was sold out. It was the first Mets sell-out since the last time they were National League East champs ten years earlier. The reason for the sellout was that this was the first home game of the newest Mets player...Mike Piazza. History says that it took some time for Mets fans to warm up to their new catcher. Not so. They loved him from the first moment they saw him on the field just taking questions from news people. The first time he came up to bat, the place went berserk. It was the beginning of a seven year relationship that included two playoffs, one pennant and a World Series against the Yankees. And I was there with my family when it started.
    All these games were great. A couple of them had some real history being made. But none of them were as exciting to me as a game that I was at one hot Saturday in June of 1996.
    It was the game between the Phillies and the Giants. Not the big league ones. This game was a battle between the Phillies and the Giants of the Churchland Little League.
    Joel, my son, was on the Phillies.
    I was the manager of his team.
    I had some experience coaching a team before I took on the job of managing the Phillies. I found out that some experience was better than none but not a whole lot. The part I didn't know about was that managing was a full time job even when you have a full time job. I spent many evenings at practice, putting together my lineup, calling parents to remind them of the Saturday game and where it would be and at what time and most importantly; making sure of who would be there. All this was in addition to giving my son individual Dad time. I threw a lot of batting practice pitches to him in the big grassy church lot next to our house. I also caught a lot of pitches from him in our back yard.
    I tried to be a pretty laid back coach. Winning was not the most important thing to me. Helping my players do their best and make their best better was my goal. I figured if I did that then we would win, hopefully a lot, of games as a result.
    I had four rules for my players.
    Be on time for practices and games.
    Trust the coach.
    When behind don't give up.
    When ahead don't let up.
    That was it.
    I thought that with those rules that all involved would have fun.
    I had to pick up players, drive them to practices and to the games. This was the part of managing that got to me the most. Chris, my catcher, lived with his single mom. She worked very long hours and so it fell upon me to drive to his home, pick him up, take him to practice, and bring him back to our house for dinner. If I didn't do that he would end up at home, alone, eating Fruit Loops or something just as healthy.
    Chris was twelve years old, tall for his age, with bright blond hair, blue eyes, and a handsome face that turned red quick from exposure to the sun. He had a fast swing and a faster temper to go with it.
    Chris resented being on the Phillies. He really didn't like being "down here with the little squirts" to use his words. He gave the impression that the only reason that he was playing was because his mother wanted him to. I didn't believe that to be the only reason. I could tell that he loved the game, although he felt he was out of the league he should have been in.
    You see, Churchland Little League was divided into three divisions; T-Ball, Minor League, which was comprised of teams made up of mostly eight to ten year olds, and the major league, which had ten to twelve year old players. The idea was that the Major League players were ones with a bit more skill. From the major league teams came all our All Stars. The All Stars would make up the dream team that would play in the district tournaments and then if successful go on to the Little League World Series.
    That is the way it was supposed to work, but in reality the coaches sons, and players that coaches really liked, or friends of the coaches sons, or sons of the coaches friends, you get the picture, ended up in the majors and on the All Star teams no matter how good they were or were not. Every now and then an "exceptional" minor league player could get called up to one of major league teams if a spot became available.
    Chris was a good player, better than most, but he had no one to go to bat for him. He had no father to be seen. His mother moved around a lot so even though he had played some organized baseball before, no one in Churchland knew him, so he was never considered for the majors, and being that this was his last year of eligibility to play he was unlikely to be called up.
    As I said, Chris was a good player. He had no fear of the ball at all. Most of my players would back out of the box as soon as the pitcher released the ball. They rarely swung at a pitch. Right handed Chris crowded the plate. His size scared the opposing players, especially the pitcher. Chris gave a look that dared any pitcher to throw it anywhere near the plate. If they did he would quickly smash the ball. He would smash it long and high over the third base side into the outfield. Unfortunately it was the outfield of the T-ball field which made that screaming hit a foul ball.
    The coaches of the T-ball teams didn't care for unseen round white orbs raining down on their dirt kicking outfielders. More than once they told me to do something about it. I asked one coach if he would like me to shout "Fore!" when Chris comes up to bat. He called me a wise guy.
    I did want to do something about it believe me.
    Over dinner I would try to coach his attitude, tell him to not crowd the plate. He had a long reach. Give the pitcher some room and he would get a good pitch to hit.
    I moved him back in the box and told him to wait before swinging and to go for the outside pitch.
    When Chris hit one into fair territory, it was usually a line drive that went like it was shot out of a cannon right at third base or to the shortstop position sometimes resulting in an injury to the unfortunate kid who tried to knock it down and extra bases for Chris.
    Soon the pitchers for the other teams, on coach's orders, all started pitching away from him. This frustrated Chris even more and he started swinging at junk, hitting more fouls and finding himself in many 0 and 2 counts. I told him to take more first pitches. He would try, and he could get the count to 3 and 2, but a sharp pitcher would take advantage of him and he would end up with a backwards K next to his name on the score sheet.
    After hitting two fouls, looking at three balls, looking at a third strike, he would turn even redder in the face, and if he could have he would have broken his aluminum bat in half.
    He wanted more than to just hit the ball. He wanted that big major league home run. He wanted to prove that he should be up there with the big boys.
    He wasn't the only one.
    Joel was my closer and played second base and shortstop when needed. He batted right handed in the forth position so he was my clean up man in more ways than one. He was patient. Joel would drive the other pitchers crazy because he instinctively sat back in the box and waited. He would take pitches that he knew were balls and foul off the pitches that he knew were borderline. Chris was doing great to get six pitches. Joel would get eight, eleven, or more and still walk, but most of the time it only took one to get on base.
    If the ball was close to the plate, Joel was swinging for first base. He would take the knob to the ball and punch it where the infield defense was the weakest and then use his speed to beat it out to first. He was so fast that the infielder would rush, juggle the ball or make a bad throw, and Joel would usually end up at second, if not third.
    Soon pitchers tried to throw around him as well. But it didn't matter, Joel walked when he wanted to and if the pitch was reachable he used his great bat speed to take it to the opposite field. If it was an inside pitch, he tucked his hips in, leaned back and then pulled it to left.
    They could not keep him off the base paths when he got on. His attitude was two bases are always better than one.
    When it came to pitching, Joel was one of the most accurate pitchers on the mound, major or minor. He threw strikes. Worse yet for the batters he faced, he threw inside strikes. The problem was, that chased the batters out of the box and young umpires would lose their reference and call a ball. This bugged Joel. He knew the umpires up in the majors would not do this to him, but he learned to adjust. He would throw low to the back corner of the plate and get the batters to chase and if they were not swingers, just throw hard and fast right down the middle.
    Most of the time Chris was his catcher and he knew how to catch a pitch and make it look pretty.
    Both of those boys could have played with the big kids.
    We won a lot of games as the season progressed. Three games we lost by one run. The third game of the season was our first loss. We got killed thirteen to nothing. For some reason, I think it was a muddy field, we had to play on the T-ball field with a bad pitcher's mound. Unlike the other team (The First Place Mets) we could not adjust.
    My team was upset with that loss. I was upset because they gave up on me three innings in. I did not scold them. Instead I had them all over to my house on practice night for some Nintendo Home Run Derby. My plan was to get some bats moving that usually stayed still.
    It worked. The kids had a great time. They competed against each other. Boys who had poor timing found out that they could swing and hit a virtual ball. I told them that if they could hit what the computer tossed at them, they could hit what a pitcher threw. They just needed to decide to do it. I also reminded them of rules three and four. To make it easier to remember, those rules would now be rule one and two.
    Before each game I would give my little pep talk about teamwork and strategy and then ask my two questions.
    "What's rule number one?!"
    "DON'T GIVE UP!"
    "What's rule number two?"
    "DON'T LET UP!"
    We won our next six games.
    Many years later, after one of the other coaches of the Mets became a next door neighbor, I found out that the Phillies had a reputation for being relentless. I was told that other coaches thought we were mean because we pounded the other team. We never let up on them. We didn't. I told my boys that life is like baseball or vice versa, play fair but play hard. Don't cheat to win but make the other guy beat you, and never surrender. When you lose, and you most likely will, you still have no reason to feel bad if you did your very best. My team took all that to heart and always played like we were one run ahead or one behind.
    By game fourteen out of sixteen, we were 11 and 3.
    Game fifteen was the Phillies against the Giants.
    I didn't know it then, but this would be Chris's last game. His mother would move again before the month was out.
    Chris still wanted that big home run.
    The rules of Churchland Little League state that all players who show up for the game are in the batting line up for the whole game. Substitutions in the field are unlimited and pitchers can throw for three consecutive innings only, but they can play other positions.
    For this game I had ten players out of thirteen show up. A couple of them, including TJ who normally batted first, arrived late so I shifted my line up one place. Joel was batting in the third slot and Chris in forth. TJ was in the tenth position. I hated not having him at the top of the order during our first at bat. He didn't hit a lot but he didn't flinch either, so he tended to get a lot of walks. Matt, leadoff and my starting pitcher, and CJ were both good hitters. Together they gave Joel a really good chance to hit in some runs.
    The day of the game we were the visitors.
    I can see it in my mind, not like it was yesterday, but like it is right now.
    I watch my players arrive. When the Ump gets there I give him my lineup and a copy to the Giants' coach.
    We do some warm up exercises. Since we are visitors we hit the field for some quick infield practice first.
    After we are done, the Giants take the field for some quick drills and then the starters take their positions.
    It is time to play ball. My summer boys are up first.
    Matt leads off with a first pitch double to center field which he tries to stretch into a triple and gets thrown out. CJ strikes out on a 1 and 2 count. Joel comes up to bat with nobody on and two outs.
    This is not the way I want to start out against the Giants.
    Pitch comes in and Joel takes it to the far right field and runs for first like his life depends on it. He doesn't stop until he is standing on third. His pants are still clean.
    Now it is Chris's at bat. I don't know what to expect. I know that it could get ugly. Joel, standing on third, had better keep his eyes open and not get hit by a rocket.
    Chris takes a vicious swing at the first pitch and misses so hard he spins like a top. The pitcher grins at him. Chris turns a bit redder. Next pitch and Chris knocks an ankle breaker back to the mound. It bounces off the rubber and flies past second as the pitcher jumps. Chris makes it to first, Joel scores.
    Little Jeffery comes up to the plate and manages to take it to a full count before he goes down looking.
    Bottom of the first Phillies 1 Giants 0
    The Giants are a pretty fair team so I am going to play my normal game but take nothing for granted. Before Matt heads to the mound, I tell him and Chris to be smart, no fancy curve balls, just play catch.
    The Giants leadoff batter and Matt get into a classic battle of hitter and pitcher. It goes to a full count with a bunch of foul balls. Matt walks him.
    Okay, he will shake that off. I hope.
    The next two batters both hit to my second baseman. CJ makes two great throws to first.
    Matt now has two outs and starts to get a bit anxious for the third so he throws one in the dirt that Chris can't smother. The runner who was on third makes it home.
    The batter goes down looking with a full count.
    Man, my players sure know how to make a coach anxious.
    Top of the Second, score tied 1 to 1
    Shawn leads off for us. He does not like to stay in the batters box. I cured him by laying bats on the ground behind his heels. If he steps backwards he steps on the bats and takes a fall. I know this seems like a mean technique to cure bat fright but it works. This day he stays right there, never takes a swing but ends up on first.
    Jonathan, Zac, and WC are my next three batters. All three of them strike out. Jonathan and WC go down looking at the third strike. The Giants's pitcher throws nine strikes and three balls. Three of those 12 pitches end up at the backstop allowing Shawn to work his way from first to home.
    Bottom of the second Phillies 2, Giants 1
    Matt walks the lead off batter after a 3-1 count. I am hoping that he will settle down a bit. Chris jogs out to the mound to talk to him.
    I don't know what he said but it works.
    Matt strikes out the next batter, and then takes the second one to a full count before getting him too. The third batter goes down with a backwards K on four pitches.
    Top of the Third we are ahead 2 to 1.
    TJ, last in the lineup, leads off with big stand-up double on a 1 and 0 pitch.
    Now we are back at the top of our batting order.
    Matt takes a ball and then puts a hard grounder back to the mound. He gets thrown out on a not so close play at first but advances the runner.
    CJ is up. He is a smart hitter and almost always takes the first pitch. He does just that this time as well. It is a ball. He smacks the next one to third base, it will be a long throw to first and he beats it out. It is a bad throw that scoots out to right field, CJ pushes it all the way to third while TJ makes it home.
    All my parents are screaming now. Things are getting hot.
    Joel is up, and everyone is yelling at him to bring CJ home. Joel works it to two balls and two strikes and goes down swinging hard.
    Two outs, with a man on third.
    Chris is up and the pitcher just stands there looking. Chris takes a couple of hard practice swings.
    Chris gets five pitches. Two of them are foul balls, one of which takes off behind our dugout, into the woods, never to be seen again. The other one scares the poop out of the T-ball parents sitting in the bleachers on the third base side of the T-ball field. They have their backs to our field and never see what drops from the sky. He takes two balls that are so outside even he doesn't swing at them. The third one that he doesn't swing at is a strike, in the opinion of the umpire anyway, (who, in my opinion must be drunk or blind).
    Chris is really red now. I tell the boys to hit the field.
    Bottom of the Third
    Phillies 3, Giants 1
    Again Matt walks the first batter. This is getting monotonous.
    I once asked my pitchers and players this:
    "What is the most important first pitch in baseball?"
    I got all kinds of answers.
    "Curve."
    "No-fastball, its gotta be a fastball!"
    "Breaking Ball."
    I told them it is a strike. The answer should be obvious. Pitchers need to throw first pitch strikes. I don't care if the batter looks at it, swings and misses it, or fouls it off. I just want the first pitch to be a strike. A pitcher still has the mental advantage, even with a three two count, if the first pitch is a strike.
    Matt has the advantage with the second batter. He throws two strikes and then three balls but the sixth pitch freezes the batter.
    One out, two to go, play is at second.
    The third batter is the same sad story with one different player, another walk. Now the Giants have runners on first and second.
    Hot and Cold Matt, you never know which one is throwing next. The hot one hurls the next five pitches. He gets another one looking.
    Two down, one to go and we are back at the top of the Giants order.
    After the next three pitches, I know Matt is trying to kill me. They are all balls. The batter has the brains to take the next pitch. Matt fires it down the middle for strike one. Next pitch is off the corner on the outside. Chris never moves his glove. The Ump calls it a ball. It looks just like the last strike he called on Chris. As the batter is trotting to first and the bases load, I am reminding myself that it is against the rules to kill an umpire.
    Matt throws a high ball to the next batter, and Chris stands to get it. He tosses it back to the mound while my parents and players are yelling encouraging things to Matt. I could use a few good words myself about now.
    Matt throws a low outside pitch. The batter golfs it back to the mound and it makes this high bounce straight up off that darn rubber. Matt can't field it. Runner is very safe.
    The Third Base runner scores and we still have bases loaded.
    "Play is at any base!" Joel, at short, yells to the rest of the infield.
    My outfielders are asleep, because nothing has gone out there yet.
    Matt fires off another pitch, inside, at the knees of the batter. He hits it right back to Matt who gets it on one bounce and throws to first.
    Thank God, inning over. Joel needs to start warming up.
    Top of the Forth
    Phillies 3, Giants 2
    Little Jeffrey is up again. I can count on one hand the number of times Jeffery has been on base. He plays outfield and I am lucky if he is looking at home plate when the batter hits the ball.
    Today, however, he seems to be getting into it a bit more. I just wish he would swing the darn bat.
    He hits the first pitch. It spins high up on the first base side and smacks the bleachers right next to his dad...You would have thought it was a home run. Every one rooting for the Phillies starts yelling like they have lost their minds.
    I think the noise must have unnerved the pitcher because he throws four straight balls. Jeffery struts to first base like he owns the world.
    Shawn is next. He takes the pitcher to a full count then goes down looking.
    Jonathan stands by the plate and glares at the pitcher while he takes three balls, two strikes (in some kind of order) and then stares at the last pitch, a pretty strike.
    Two down. Man the bottom of my order doesn't help me very often. Zac is my last hope.
    Sometimes things are hopeless. Five pitches later, Diane my scorekeeper draws a backwards K next to Zac.
    Three down without trying to foul off the last strike, come on, give me a break guys!
    Bottom of the Forth
    Phillies 3, Giants 2
    Joel is nice and warmed up. I watch the players as they move out on the field, grinning as they run. They believe in Joel. He rarely walks a batter. He makes them work for it. I hear the Parents saying "We got em now."
    Maybe, but I don't want to let up. Joel knows that and he reminds his team not to let up as they run past him. "Good boy," I think to myself.
    Joel wastes no time. He hurls at the Giants number 4 hitter, three inside fastballs waist high. He freezes the guy in his cleats. His bat never moves.
    The Second batter takes a swing at all three pitches but gets nothing but air.
    Two down, one to go.
    The next batter up catches everyone by surprise. He bunts to the first base side (it could have been an accident) on the very first pitch. WC, now catching, can move pretty fast when he wants to, scoops it up and throws it to the stretched out TJ at first, just in the nick of time.
    The forth inning is over, pretty darn quick if you ask me.
    Top of the fifth and my summer boys are up again. I look though the dugout fence at their hot and sweaty faces. I tell these great kids of mine that Joel needs some protection. Get him some runs.
    Chris yells "What's rule number 2?!!!"
    "Don't let up! Don't let up!"
    WC leads off.
    WC is a short stocky kid who doesn't like batting in the bottom of the order. Most of the time I put him in the ninth spot. He can hit and he can get a walk. The only bad thing is that he has a habit of throwing his bat. The first time the umps will issue a warning, the second time they will call him out. WC throws his bat at least once a game but if he gets a hit and controls himself he can get us back to the top of our order and when that happens WC will usually score a run. Today WC is not batting at the bottom but we still need him to do his magic.
    WC likes to swing his bat, so he fouls a few pitches and makes the pitcher work until the count is three and two. On the next pitch he sends a blooper over the third baseman's head, runs three steps, drops his bat and makes it to first base. It is obvious that he likes the sound of his team's cheers.
    TJ comes up. TJ gets more walks than anyone on the team. He knows that it his job to get on base so he is an extremely patient batter.
    He forces the pitcher to go to another full count but comes out on the losing end this time.
    Ian, who came to the game during previous inning is up now. Ian is my youngest player and is scared stiff of the ball. If he stays in the batter's box and gives the pitcher any kind of challenge we will be doing good. He manages to get a piece of the second pitch. It is the first time he puts the bat on the ball during a game. I am proud of him even when he misses the next two.
    Two outs with one on, but we make it back to the top of the lineup.
    As Matt steps out of our dugout I stop him and call Joel over.
    "What do you guys think of the pitcher?" I ask.
    "He's throwing a lot of pitches, most of them balls. He looks nervous or something," is Joel's response. Matt nods in agreement.
    "We will try to make him work a little harder." I look over at Matt. "Play with his head a bit, step out between pitches, fix your gloves, or adjust your helmet, make him think about his next pitch longer than he wants to. Got that?"
    "Okay Coach."
    Matt walks over to the plate just as my friend the ump impatiently yells "Batter Up!"
    Maybe Matt didn't get it, I don't know. He hits the first pitch for a single. Okay, I'll take it anyway I can get it.
    CJ is up next. He fouls the first pitch and then takes the next two. The count is 1 and 2 when the next pitch comes straight at him. I know he's going to duck but he turns around and takes it right in the middle of his back. He drops his bat, bends his back one direction and then the other, groaning and moaning. The ump asks CJ if he his okay. CJ says he can still play. He hobbles to first. I swear he gave me a sideways grin as he passes me.
    That did it. We now have the bases loaded with two outs. Joel is now in the box. He has that look in his eye. He wants more than just a base hit, he wants extra bases, as many as he can get. I know what he wants. He wants the biggest home run you can get. Joel wants a Grand Slam.
    Sometimes you almost get what you want.
    The Giants pitcher was just too nervous. His first pitch is in the dirt, the catcher scrambles and WC steals home while Matt and CJ advance a base.
    We have a two run lead with one inning to go, plus there is a time limit, but at this point that is way off yet.
    The Giants coach calls his pitcher over to the third base path.
    I can guess what he is saying. "It's okay; this is still anybody's game. Just go out there and throws strikes."
    Yep, that's what I would have said with all the confidence that I could muster, while hoping that it works.
    It does for awhile, sort of.
    Joel looks at two close balls then fouls off two pitches in a row and then looks at one more ball. It's a full count. He then hits the next pitch hard down the third base side where at the last second it curves foul.
    I think to myself that the pitcher better not throw one there again. He does.
    Joel kicks and slams it hard. It's a rope over the third baseman's head and keeps going until it rolls into the farthest point in left field that it can go. Joel does not look where that ball lands. From the moment he makes contact his feet start to move toward first. He glances at the first base coach who yells at him to keep going. Joel flies around second, all the time watching TJ's father who is coaching third base. His arm is spinning like a windmill and Joel gets the message.
    All of us are yelling at him.
    "Run Joel, Run!"
    He rounds third into foul territory and keeps on pumping for home. I see the throw being relayed from the outfield and it is going to be close. Joel looks at me for the slide sign. I give it to him, better safe than sorry.
    He slides across the plate with an inside the park homerun, beating the throw by, well, quite a bit. His teammates are yelling at the top of their voices. It is quite a moment.
    The score is now Phillies 7, Giants 2
    "Don't let up!"
    "Don't let up!"
    I did not remind them of rule number two. Chris or someone started that cheer themselves. I don't stop them. They know it is still anybody's game to win.
    I look over at the Giants dugout and almost feel sorry for the coach. The pitcher looks dejected but not defeated. That is good, after all the game ain't over till it's over.
    I herd all the guys back to the dugout as Chris heads to the batter's box. Chris is really pumped up. I can see it in his face. The first pitch comes in low and outside.
    Ball one.
    The pitcher winds up, lets go and the ball follows the same path.
    Ball two.
    Chris steps out of the box, glares at the mound, takes a swing and steps back to the plate.
    The pitcher throws a high breaking ball. It looks like a softball pitch.
    Ball Three.
    Chris gets red in the face and yells.
    "Come on, give me something to hit!"
    I have to do something and do it fast.
    "Time, Blue!"
    The ump calls time and I motion for Chris to come over.
    I lean in close to him.
    "I want you to show a bunt."
    "I don't want to bunt." He responds.
    "I want you to show a bunt and if the pitcher puts it down the middle pull back and kill it. Can you do that?"
    "Fake a bunt? I don't know coach."
    "Hey, batter we don't have all day."
    I push Chris back towards the plate...the ump wants to go home.
    Chris steps back in the batter's box. The throw is a fastball outside. Chris drops his bat and heads for first.
    "Hey batter, that was a strike."
    Slowly Chris turns and looks at the Ump like he is out of his mind. The pitcher starts laughing at him. Chris's face becomes as red as a tomato.
    He goes back to the plate. He takes his stance. Then something clicks. He squares off for a bunt. He shows this great big and very ugly wiggy-waggy bunt. The pitcher looks at Chris like he has gone crazy and fires a fast one right down the fat part of the plate.
    I know what is coming next because I can feel it in the air. The hair on my arms stands up as Chris gets this unmistakable look on his face. It is the look of complete victory. He pulls back and smokes the ball harder than he has ever hit one in his life.
    PING!!!
    That ball heads for dead center field, climbing the whole time. Every eye, both on our field, the T-ball field and the major league field, where the sound of the bat hitting the leather can be heard, is following the path of the ball. They watch it as it bounces off a car in the parking lot way beyond our centerfield fence.
    Chris makes his victory lap around the diamond. My team is going crazy. They meet Chris at home plate, slapping his back.
    Chris finally has his Major League Home run.
    Phillies 8, Giants 2
    But it ain't over till it's over.
  13. -Gramps-

    A bit about Wi-Fi

    By -Gramps-,

    It's been awhile since I blogged and a lot has happened since the 23rd of May or whenever it was since I last posted.
    I say a lot has happened, but not really. Diane, Nickolas and myself traveled to our spot at Deer Creek Motorcoach resort, the one in Galax, Virginia, not Florida. Barry, the owner and developer, asked me to point that out.
    While there, I did my best to improve my golf game and beef up our Wi-Fi. The golfing was fun ... more about that later.
    A bit about our Wi-Fi.
    It is not an easy thing to do, cover an area the size of a driving range, which is what Deer Creek used to be, and allow owners to log on from inside their coaches. Most stock Wi-Fi devices, be it a router or access point (it's a bit complicated to explain the difference), cover a 100-foot radius well.
    I am not trying to cover a radius at Deer Creek. I am trying to project the signal in a half circle uphill with some coaches sitting higher than the one in front of it. In a few spots a coach blocks the line of sight of the coach behind it to the Wi-Fi router. I fixed this by adding a third access point with a high gain antenna on the roof of the clubhouse. This plugged my coverage holes, but still I need a bit more punch to get to the far corners of the resort. That will be fixed by adding an inline antenna amplifier to the mix.
    That will be taken care of during our next trip out there. As well as making a change to beef up "Internal security."
    Let's talk about public Wi-Fi for just a minute. A lot of RV parks, including the one next to Deer Creek Motorcoach resort, offer free Wi-Fi. Some of these networks are unsecured, meaning you don't have to have a password, or network key, as it sometimes called, to get onto it. If it does require a security key, the only thing that key does is keep some people without one from getting onto it. Let me tell you something else that the key may not do. It will not protect you from other people in the campground, or at some other public Wi-Fi who are logged on with you.
    Public Wi-Fi works a bit on the honor system.
    You could be sitting at a restaurant logged on to a hotspot with an encryption key and thinking you are as safe as if you were on your home network. However, the person two tables over could be looking through your files. You see, if you have your computer set up to share a printer and or files, you could be exposed. You should turn off printer and file sharing when you don't know if you are connected to a network with client security.
    Vista and Windows 7 will ask if you are connecting to a public hotspot and will turn that feature off if you tell it to. Xp also will let you turn off file and printer sharing, but you have to know where to go to do that.
    I know what most of you are thinking: I don't use file and printer sharing, and I renamed my Windows workgroup, so that helps secure me also.
    The first part is mostly correct. The second part isn't. Renaming your workgroup to something else doesn't help at all. Renaming only hides computers near you from showing up in a certain screen and keeps you from showing up on other XP computers. But, and this is important, if you know where to look other users still can be found. The connection is still there.
    It comes down to this. Most public hotspots are provided by the use of small, inexpensive routers and access points, most of which do not provide isolation from one user to another and it is up to you to look after yourself.
    If you have a network in your coach with multiple users, it becomes a bit harder to do this. If you disable printer and file sharing, your laptop will no longer talk to your desktop, or you and your spouse can't communicate, and your laptops won't communicate to each other. To fix that you may need to get your own wireless router and set it up to repeat the public signal. That way you stay logged on to your own network and you can isolate it from the rest of the RV park.
    RV parks spend more time trying to get coverage and keep unwanted people off their WI-FI network as opposed to trying to protect their guests from each other.
    Remember this: When it comes to public Wi-Fi you have to look after yourself.
    Maybe that should be a rule!
  14. -Gramps-
    It has been a year, this week, since I started blogging here at FMCA.com. Boy, time sure flies when you are having stress. I have had a boat load of just that over the last year, I am talking about stress.
    It started building up more than usual around Christmas 2008 after I realized something was physically very wrong with Mike, my friend and business partner. By late March he was gone. Many of you know the story. He "passed over," to use that innocuous phrase, just after our trip to the FMCA convention in Perry, Georgia.
    After the rally we traveled on down to Florida to visit my daughter, her husband and new son.
    It was a good thing that I was away with family when Mike died. I don't think I could have handled witnessing Mike's last few moments alive in the hospital. During some of our last phone conversations, it was usually me who broke down and cried. Mike didn't care for that at all. He was always joking and kept telling me that he would be okay. I couldn't figure out if he was trying to reassure me or if he was just in denial. I guess it was a bit of both. I didn't want to loose him. We had been friends for twenty years. I didn't like looking at what my future would be without him. It didn't look good to me all.
    I was partially right. It hasn't been all good so far, but it could have been a whole lot worse if not for this site.
    On March first of last year I stumbled upon the FMCA forums. I joined and wrote some kind of blurb introducing Diane and myself. The next thing I knew I had an e-mail asking if we would take a profile survey, which we did. Not long after that, we were on the home page in the Meet the Member feature. I didn't realize at the time that this was a rather new Web site and it, just like my motorhome, was about to improve my life in many ways.
    That brings me to the purpose of this one-year blog entry.
    To say thanks. I want to thank Todd of the FMCA.com staff for making this blog and the good things it has done possible.
    I want to thank Gary and Janis, who googled "38PLT UFO," found our FMCA profile, made a phone call, and soon became great close friends. They have helped me make it through this last year. Diane and I wouldn' know what to do without you.
    I would also like to take this time to remind all my friends here of my Five Rules for Owning a Motor Coach.
    It never hurts to have a review.
    1. Owning a motor coach improves one's life ... if you let it.
    2. Keep your temper on a very short leash, because when you own a motor coach patience is not only a virtue but a necessity.
    3. Enjoy the view! Don't be in a hurry to get there, wherever there is. It isn't just the destination that matters; the journey is good for you, too.
    4. Owning a motor coach is a never-ending learning experience.
    5. Always remember rule number one.
    These rules are important. Forgetting them has consequences, and they are not pleasant ones. All of the rules have a flip side. A motorhome can make you miserable ... if you let it.
    If you don't keep your temper on a short leash, what do you think will happen? I threw a walkie-talkie against my garage door once. Don't ask why. I will tell you that I remember that display of behavior every time I use that scratched-up radio. I was able to put it back together after it flew apart. I learned from that experience. If I quit learning, I will just make more mistakes.
    If you have not read my archived entries about these rules why not take the time to do so?
    You might just learn something about yourself in the process.
    In closing, I have enjoyed my year here. I hope that all my readers, however many, have gotten something positive from my little blog.
    Thanks for viewing.
    There will be more.
    Derrick
    AKA "Gramps"
  15. -Gramps-

    Better Than New!

    By -Gramps-,

    Click on any thumbnail above to see a lot more pictures!
    Gary, Janis, Diane and I are good friends. We travel together and we both own the same coach. It is a Holiday Rambler Vacationer XL, model 38PLT built on the Workhorse UFO chassis. The UFO has the engine in the rear and it is gas not diesel. We get a lot of comments when we pull into a campground together or separately.
    For example:
    "Man, your coach sure is quiet, what's wrong with it?"
    (Nothing)
    "Well, it sure is a funny sounding Diesel."
    (That's because it isn't a diesel, it's a gas pusher.)
    "No Way! Nobody makes one of those!"
    (Well, Holiday Rambler made mine.)
    "Are you sure it's gas?"
    (Well, it was the last time I filled the tank.)
    "Man I have never seen one of these going down the road."
    (You may have, you just didn't know it.)
    "That's crazy, a gas pusher? Where's the engine in it?"
    (Ahhh...I think it's in the rear.)
    Is this that UFO thing I have heard about?
    (Why, yes it is!)
    "What is a UFO anyway?"
    (It is a diesel coach that runs on gas.)
    Jeff Daniels says "Always remember and never forget; you're not a real American till you've been behind the wheel of a Recreational Vehicle."
    I agree with that but let me add this: People sure think you are an odd American when you tell them your Recreational Vehicle's gas engine is in the rear. Even the techs in Elkhart thought we were an unusual group of coach travelers. Personally, I think one of our coaches should be in the Elkhart RV Hall of Fame one day. We have been there and I know just where they can park it.
    Better Than New! Pilgrimage to Elkhart Days 5 and 6
    Tuesday morning came early. It was cloudy and cold. Gary and I had our coaches ready for their short trip to the service bays by seven twenty. Roger and Walt were there to pick them up ten minutes later.
    We told the guys how pleased we were with their work so far. I asked Roger if he would repair the second hole in the bathroom floor, and he said he would. He had cut a piece of vinyl from the floor inside the plumbing compartment next to the washer dryer to fix the first rip. That was a small square. He wanted to replace a whole section this time. I felt sure he could figure out something.
    I also added recalibrating my leveling system, and would they please inspect the roof (another thing I forgot to tell them the day before. It seems I misplaced my list and was going from memory).
    Walt told us that Ed from BAL still had some work to do on the slide outs and that Tim Belle the tech support manager wanted to meet with us in about an hour. I had had a number of very helpful phone conversations with Tim and was looking forward to meeting him in person.
    Roger hopped into the drive's seat. I asked him what he thought of the UFO chassis.
    "Yesterday I almost started it twice. I noticed that the tack was moving so I didn't, it's just amazing how quiet it is." He said
    I told Roger that I often turn up the rear camera microphone to listen to the engine.
    I have almost started the engine twice myself. I can only imagine what kind of terrible grinding noise that would cause. I hope I never hear it.
    Our rigs were moved back over to the service bays. I informed the ladies they would have to wait in the car, if they didn't want to wait inside because we needed to meet with JD and Tim and I wanted to take some pictures as well. That was all right with them.
    Gary and I walked over to the shop to see JD Adams, the manager of ESC. JD had talked to us both on the phone and I meet him briefly the morning before. He met us in the shop and introduced us to Rod and Mike, whom we had not met yet. We then went into Gary's coach where Ed from BAL was hard at work on Gary's main slide out.
    We chatted with him and with the other guys until Tim arrived. Tim told us what they had done so far which included installing new cables, all new standoffs (the bracket on the outside of the slide out that the cable attaches to.) and most important a bigger high torque motor that would move the big slide out much faster. What they planned to do today was change the seals on the outside. We told him how much we appreciated it.
    Walt had some questions about repairing Gary's basement door, and Roger had already started repairing my bathroom floor.
    I could have hovered around there for a long time watching these guys work.
    It is easy for me to loose track of time when I am with a bunch of technical guys. With my wife and the dog just sitting in the car on a cold morning; I could loose enough time to get myself in trouble. I suggested to Gary we take pictures and then rescue the ladies.
    We took pictures and then rescued the ladies. Diane was sitting and shivering with the car engine running. She was looking more than a little cold.
    "You okay?"
    "Yeeesss," she said with chattering teeth. "Can we get going now?"
    "Sure, the museum doesn't open until ten anyway so we would have just been sitting there."
    "I'm okay."
    I was relieved to see she wasn't obviously upset with me.
    Just before we pulled out, our neighbor from Quebec pulled in, truck and trailer. I didn't even notice he was gone. Before he could get more than a few feet off the road his truck died. He had pulled his fifth wheel around to the other side of the service building to fill his water tank.
    Well, Gary and I couldn't just leave him stranded like that so we spent the next fifteen minutes trying to jump his truck and get it moving again. We started it, but it wouldn't run long. He had to unhitch the trailer and move the truck to where he could plug in a trickle charger.
    That was the best we could do for him, so we headed off for the Elkhart RV/MH Hall of Fame Museum and Conference Center.
    Just for your information the MH stands for Manufactured Housing not motorhome.
    When it came to sightseeing in Elkhart, this was the highlight of the whole trip.
    We were the first people through the door that morning. JD had given us three free passes and we expected to pay for one ticket but the two gentlemen curator/guides who met us at the door said that would not be necessary. We signed the visitor's registry and the self guided tour began.
    The museum is divided into four main halls. One is the supplier's hall, the Go RVing hall which has new rigs on display and the RV Founders and Ingram Halls which have a fantastic collection of antique housecars and house trailers.
    Diane and I visited the supplier's hall first. There we found displays of towing equipment, RV appliances, including some that are also residential, along with displays from RV clubs and campgrounds. There was also one from Workhorse. It was a display of the UFO chassis. Of course I had to gravitate toward it. There was a video that I watched that showed some of the first people who drove the chassis and the first owners. I found it fascinating. I had to tell Diane about it so I went to get her. She walked over, looked at the video for about ten seconds.
    "That's nice" she said. "Let's go look for Gary and Janis."
    Feeling somewhat deflated, I followed her to the Go RVing hall. I walked past everything and went straight to the Damon Avanti that was parked near the front window. It is a small Class A with Euro Styling and is powered by a front engine Navistar diesel engine. Nice rig, but we didn't look at it for long. Next we visited the Founders Hall.
    I was amazed at the assortment of Motor Houses. I looked at the older towables but I really wanted to spend more time looking at the motorized rvs. I was impressed the most by the Mae West Mobile and the Tennessee Traveler with its pot bellied "furnace". I know that most of us are used to a lot of comfort. I have to wonder what earlier House Car-ers, who drove with their backsides resting on wooden benches would think of our plush seats and air ride. I bet they would think we are all a bunch of motor homing weenies.
    We left the museum sometime around twelve thirty. I remember because I took a phone call just before we left and I noted the time. It was the only one I had the whole day. A miracle!
    Our next stop was Das Dutchman Essenhaus in Middlebury. It is this large complex with an Amish style restaurant, an inn, shops, and bakery. They serve lunch home style; some may call it country style. We had about a half hours drive to get there, because we planned on taking the scenic route trough Amish country. We arrived forty minutes later and ready to eat.
    The restaurant is a huge place. It must seat three hundred people or more. There was hardly anyone there. I guess the tourist season had not geared up yet. We told our server we were there for the home style lunch. She informed us that would include fried chicken, home made egg noodles, green beans, mash potatoes and gravy, corn and our choice of pot roast or ham. We chose the pot roast.
    It wasn't the best country style food I have eaten. That distinction is a toss up between the food served at the Daniel Boone Inn in Boone North Carolina or a little hole in the wall called Lazy Susan's in Spruce Pine North Carolina. As I said it wasn't the best but is was still very good. For desert I had fresh strawberry pie with ice cream, of course.
    After lunch we explored the place a bit. It had this big meandering country store that took up the four outside walls of the inn. We also visited some other shops and climbed the stairs to the top of a grain silo that had been converted into an observation deck.
    Sometime around three thirty, quarter to four we were ready to head back to Elkhart.
    We took the interstate back so it was a rather quick trip. Once again our coaches were parked in their spots, power connected, jacks down and slides out. Once inside, I soon discovered that my tank was full of water. I would not have been surprised to find mints on our pillows.
    The bathroom floor looked perfect. I went outside the coach to check the main slide sweeps. They had been replaced. I checked the roof and saw that my big bedroom skylight had been resealed. There were a couple of other spots that looked like they had been touched up as well.
    I visited Gary's coach and we inspected the work done on his slide outs. We could tell that Ed had extended a couple of cables instead of replacing them. Gary and I had talked about doing this a couple of times ourselves. However, we were not confident in how to go about it or what type of connector to use. Now we knew, but of course we hoped we would not have a reason to do it. Gary told me that Walt had blocked off a heating vent behind his loveseat. The hot air trapped itself back there and was virtually baking the couch so at Gary's request Walt took care of it.
    We had given the techs a long list of things to do. It appeared they had done them all and they repaired the damage from my encounter with the telephone pole.
    It was obvious that after two days with ESC our coaches were now better than new.
    The four of us visited for awhile, talking about the trip and what we had accomplished so far. We were all in agreement that it had been worth the journey, no doubt about that. The last thing we discussed was what time to leave in the morning. I said we can't leave too early, not until we pay our bills.
    I had my doubts about coming to Elkhart, it was a long way there and I always get nervous about leaving my business for long stretches of time. Of course I never really leave my business; it follows me wherever I go, but I was sure glad we made the trip.
    I knew that I had a good coach, and now with its many problems fixed, I could start to really enjoy it.
    Diane and I ended our evening by driving to the Elkhart Riverwalk Park. The park runs right beside the river, on both sides, and twists itself around for two miles. It is a great place to stretch one's legs and that is just what we did. Nickolas loves to take walks like this and he led the whole time. Diane and I talked Galax. We looked forward to being back there in just a couple of days. We talked about the trip, things back at home, just simple stuff that old married couples, who travel in a motor home, chat about.
    By dark we were back at the coach. After dropping Diane and Nickolas off at the door. I drove to a dollar store to buy some bottled water. While there I purchased a set of sheets, after calling Diane to ask her about them, some snacks and a few housekeeping items.
    While paying for my goods, I struck up a conversation with the young lady cashier. She had seen our coaches come down the street. She also told me her husband was a framer for one of the trailer makers. They were very busy. They had an order for 700 rigs and were working overtime to get them done. I thought that was great news. I hoped that the class A market would soon do as good.
    Back in the coach, Nickolas and I shared a bag of kettle cooked potato chips while watching NCIS. Not long after that it was bed time. Tomorrow it was back on the road. We would be stopping at a KOA somewhere near Canton, Ohio and we hoped to be out of Elkhart around nine.
    Day 6
    As usual Gary and I were up early. We were getting our coaches ready to hit the road. Gary had hooked up his tow car the night before. I was under the hood of my car pulling the ignition fuse which is the last thing I do when I tow the car. As I was closing the hood Roger walked up.
    "Are you guys leaving now?" he asked. "I hope not, because we aren't quite done with your coaches yet."
    They still needed to change my rigs oil. The day before, due to supplier problems the shop couldn't get the correct filter, but it was being delivered this morning. Gary's coach still had a wiper park failure error code. Walt hoped to get that cleared up this morning as well.
    Gary and I both figured that we came here to get things fixed so let the guys keep on working.
    About an hour and a half later my oil was changed and my bill was paid. During the time my coach was being worked on, JD, Gary and I were sitting in JD's office just shooting the breeze. I learned that JD had helped set up the Monaco service facility in Wildwood, Florida, then transferred to Elkhart where he worked for Monaco both in the coach and towable divisions. As the economy started to put holes in Monaco's ship, he was asked to come to ESC and had been there a good while by the time Gary and I first started talking to him. I also found out that ESC shared its facilities with a graphics company that custom painted new coaches. What that meant was that for the most part ESC could take care of about anything.
    Walt came in and mentioned that they were having trouble clearing Gary's wiper park failure alarm. They had done what the Workhorse techs had suggested which was to disconnect the chassis battery, do some kind of ground, and then connect it. I suggested that they call a service manager at Workhorse and ask him for help. His name is Eric and I have him on my speed dial. He knows more about the UFO then anybody I know.
    I think JD was a little skeptical that a regional rep would take his call. I told him to tell Eric that Gramps said to call him. So he made the call and I could tell that Eric answered. JD said that Gramps said to call, and I could tell that JD got a pretty good response from Eric. They talked for awhile and the conclusion was that the coach really needed to go to a Workhorse Service Center where they would have the latest and greatest diagnostic software. We all agreed that would be the best thing to do. At that point Eric asked to speak to me. We had a pleasant catching up kind of conversation. I told him the coach was working great and the guys at ESC were really taking good care of us. Eric was actually going through airport security somewhere and we made plans to talk again.
    Roger let us know that he was finished with my coach.
    We said our good byes. I once again hooked up my tow car and we were on the road again.
    That was it. Our coaches were now in really great shape. Gary had the wiper problem, but that will be fixed eventually. Later there was one thing that Diane wished we had asked the guys to do. She would like to fasten hinges to the solid stove top covers so that they could just be folded back when needed and not be a falling hazard. (See my blog about turkey soup).
    We would like to make a trip to Elkhart again. When we do we will be visiting JD and his crew. I don't think they will have any problem with taking care of Diane's wish.
    We drove until lunch time and stopped at a Flying J's for sandwiches and gas. Not too many hours after that we drove back into the hills behind Canton Ohio and soon we were at the local KOA. It was in a remote spot but it was also a very scenic spot. We sat up camp and Gary fired up his grill. We cooked hot dogs and sausages. We used the coals to start a camp fire. We just sat there staring at the fire and counting the stars. All of us were thankful that it had been such a successful trip.
    The next day would find us splitting up our little caravan. Gary and Janis would head east on I-64 to Charlottesville while Diane and I would stay on I-77 to Galax. I looked forward to that. I wanted to relax and play some golf, actually a lot of golf. I had a new to me set of clubs. Diane and I also wanted to visit with my parents and see our friends again.
    But that is another story.
  16. -Gramps-
    Saturday morning was sunny, but a bit chilly. Gary and I broke camp and pulled in our slides. He had not put his main one out because it just did not work smoothly. We discovered, the night before, that my main slide had a fraying cable so it would not be deployed for our second night. This would make the interior of the coach a bit tight but that was the breaks so to speak.
    The night before, while Gary and I were repairing my bedroom slide out topper/telephone pole mishap we had a visitor from Ohio who was also staying in the campground. He happened to see me on top of a ladder that was on top of a picnic table with my arms under the topper. We told him the whole sad story and he told us that the campground staff had warned him about that pole when he made his reservation. We received no such warning. He also warned us that we would not like the stretch of Interstate 77 between Beckley and twenty miles past Charleston. He informed us the traffic would be intolerable.
    While all this chatting was going on the ladies decided on our Saturday itinerary. Get up; get out on the road with Canton, Ohio being our next stop for the night. First would be brunch at Tamarack. This was the place that Diane had wanted to revisit for many years. She had been there once before during an auto cross country trip from Oregon to Virginia that she made with her cousin Elaine and two greyhounds. It is a very nice marketplace for area craftspeople and it has a restaurant run by the Greenbrier, a famous West Virginia five star resort. Also Saturday the tenth was her birthday and we all felt that a stop there was a small present but it was what she wanted.
    We called it a night. I tried to eat a bowl of soup but my phone keep ringing off the hook with customer calls. I thought that calling me after eight pm on a Friday night was a bit ridiculous. I kept telling them to call me back on Monday.
    The next morning, right after we all sang Happy Birthday to Diane, Gary and I started dumping, disconnecting and rolling hoses up. I did have a problem with the bedroom slide out. The topper would not retract. I pulled the slide in and the topper folded up like a fan. I put it back out and pulled my ladder back out of the basement. I climbed up and opened the topper cover and gave the roller a bit of a spin. It made a snapping noise and wound up quickly, like a window shade let go of too fast. It retracted just fine after that and I never had another bit of trouble with it.
    The ladies drove our cars back to the mine country store parking lot. Gary and I secured our campsites; we had to attach cables and locks. Then we carefully drove our coaches down the steep hill and made a right turn at the bottom. We met up with our cars and hooked them up. A few minutes later we were on our way. We made a left turn, back up the road carefully past the offending pole and then to the main street through town.
    We had good directions to Tamarack. It was a quick journey of a couple of miles, located right next to I-77 at exit 45. It's red peaked roof made it easy to spot. Tamarack has a huge bus and rv friendly parking lot. That is a good thing when you are suffering from post pole collision syndrome. (At breakfast I attempted to make some jokes about the telephone guy hitting the telephone pole but no one thought they were all that funny, including me).
    Tamarack was great. I was impressed. There were so many fine crafts there. Handmade baskets, quilts, glass etching, textiles and photography were all on display and for sale. We could see that it would take some time to eyeball it all and we were hungry so we walked over to the food court. They served cafeteria style. I glanced at the menu and saw what I wanted right away, the West Virginia Rainbow Trout and Eggs.
    The good sized trout filet was pan fried with two eggs over easy and served with Home Fried Taters and the biggest fluffiest biscuit I have ever eaten. It was really good. Along with the fish and eggs I had a bottle of hot and spicy V-8.
    Gary ordered the same thing and the ladies each had the Appalachian Omelet with fried green tomatoes (in the omelet), Red Eye Country ham and Swiss Cheese. It also came with home fries and Biscuits all for 4.95. They raved about it.
    Breakfast was worth every dime. After eating it was time for some exploring. First though I got a call from my parents asking where we were. I told them our location and also let them know that we hoped to be at our place in Galax by the following Wednesday or Thursday at the latest. We hoped to have a visit with them at some point.
    I also made a call to Joel. He was having a yard sale, at our home, with proceeds going towards medical bills he received for treatment of a dislocated finger. That happened during a soccer game. If you ever dislocate a finger do not go to a hospital emergency room. Find an Urgent care or just put up with the pain until you can see a doctor. An emergency room will sock it to you cost wise. Some of the proceeds of the yard sale would also go towards funding the band he is a member of. Joel is the drummer, the band is called Long Division and they just self released a CD.
    You can sample the album by clicking here:
    http://www.longdivisionband.com/
    The yard sale seemed to be going well. The band had made over 250 dollars by ten thirty. By the end of the day they would make 450 dollars.
    I found this out while we were walking around Tamarack looking at all their great craftwork.
    Around noon we were ready to continue our journey. We headed up I-77 and I mean up, to Parkersburg where we stopped for fuel. From there we continued to Clearwater RV Park in Uniontown, Ohio. It was quite the drive. We crossed the New River Gorge over the bridge that is famous for its wild bungee jumping. We traveled through Charleston. We made some wild stops to pay tolls and had some interesting encounters with slow moving truckers.
    At our exit for the rv park we had to make a right turn at the bottom of the exit ramp. Two cars in the left turn lane turned right instead and swung around Gary, who was leading us. The cars went into the oncoming traffic lane and then moved over and cut him off. It always amazes me how non thinking drivers believe our rigs can stop on a dime.
    We traveled without any more incidents down a long hilly country road until we reached the rv park. The park had a small water park that was not open yet. There was also a mini golf course. We parked our rigs, set up camp, had a nice talk with the park manager and then played a round of golf. The birthday girl won. After that I fired up my grill and toasted some hamburgers.
    We sat in Gary and Janis' coach and ate dinner while we chatted about our list of things we hoped to accomplish in Elkhart. The List of things included repairs as well as places we wanted to see. Top of our list of places to visit was the RV Hall of Fame.
    By nine we were all ready to call it a night. Diane and I avoided spending too much time in the too small living area (it was full of slide out) and decided to watch TV in the bedroom. I had recently installed a new 26 inch LCD and I figured that watching some old episodes of Christy would be a good way to end day two.
    I never saw the end of the episode. After about twenty minutes I was out cold. I woke up at the end of it. Diane missed it as well. So it was time for lights out. We wanted to get an early start. We hoped to be at Elkhart by late afternoon.
    Both coaches were getting anxious. So were the people in them.
  17. -Gramps-
    It is the 100th anniversary of the RV industry, so it seems appropriate to make a trip to Elkhart. Actually, I had no idea that it was or is the RV Centennial until I walked through the doors of the RV Hall of Fame in Elkhart, but I am getting ahead of myself.
    Diane and I, along with our friends Gary and Janis, have been planning on a trip to Elkhart, Indiana, for some months now. We were hoping to go there this past March 2, but the weather gave us all cold feet. In some places in Ohio there was over 30 inches of snow on the ground and our coach lot at Deer Creek in Galax, which we wanted to visit on the way back, had over 70 inches laying on it. I figured that since a snow plow, not being standard equipment on a motor coach, and would be needed to park on our lot, made a trip postponement necessary. We made plans to leave for Elkhart on April 9.
    Oh, the purpose of our trip was to visit Elkhart Service and Collision. Both our coaches were in need of some major slide out adjustments. Gary's coach had trouble with both the main and one bedroom slide. My coach's main slide out had never functioned correctly. BAL, the RV products division of Norco Industries, the designers of the cable driven Accuslide were planning on sending over a tech or two to work on the slide outs themselves. You can't beat factory direct service. Not to mention it's hard to get. Now this trip had a twofold purpose. In addition to the slide outs being repaired, we both had a long list of things we wanted done. Nothing on our lists was too major, but still necessary.
    The first of April showed all the signs of being a good weather month. We had ninety degree weather a couple of days before we left. Thursday, the day before our planned departure, I was making an emergency computer network install at the Trellis Restaurant in Williamsburg. I left poor Diane at home to pack up the rig by her self. This type of arrangement happens all too often, but that is the nature of running one's own business I guess. I made it home around six o'lock and spent the rest of the night loading up my clothes and the heaviest of the food stuffs into the coach. Our plan was that the only thing we would have to do the next morning was back out of the driveway, pull into the church lot next door, hook up the Saturn and be on the road by nine. We would not have to stop for gas, propane or anything else.
    We had the coach ready to go by 8:55. That is a new record. At 9 on the dot Gary called to see how we were doing. I told him that we were pulling out right then. Diane and I said our normal prayer for a safe trip, and started on our way. We met Gary and Janis, as planned, at the Monitor and Merrimac Bridge Tunnel inspection station. We both turned off our propane tanks and headed through the tunnel. ( It should be named the Monitor and Virginian tunnel, in my opinion, but if it was you couldn't call it the M&M tunnel which has a nice ring to it.) We kept in touch with each other with family radios.
    We traveled down I-64 for some 20 miles or so till we arrived at the first rest stop. There we turned our tanks back on and then continued. We were headed to Beckley, West Virginia. Our journey to our first overnight stop was almost uneventful. Almost.
    The drive west on I-64 was really nice. Spring had sprung. There were red buds in bloom, the trees were turning green, and daffodils by the hundreds were showing off their yellow heads along the road side. Both our coaches made it up Afton Mountain, west of Charlottesville, across the intersection of the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Skyline Drive.
    We turned south down I-81/I-64. It didn't take long to get to I-77/I-64 where we again traveled west, on to Beckley. We planned to stay at a small campground run by the Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine. This is a nice tourist spot where you can take a mine car tour of an actual coal seam led by a veteran miner. We would have liked to do just that but we didn't have the time.
    Once we exited I-77 things became a bit dicey. Our gpses? gpss? I am not sure what the plural is, they both went crazy. We had conflicting directions and so we had to choose who was right, Tom or Ms Garmin. We choose Ms Garmin, but it turned out that neither gps was capable of giving good directions.
    We ended up going down a very small street barely large enough for two cars to pass each other. Gary was leading as we came to some kind of police check point. I don't know what they were checking for, but they waved us through. Gary made a right turn down an even smaller street that was also very down hill. Diane told me to ask the policeman for directions. This request came a bit late to help Gary and Janis, but it was still a good thing to do. I opened the window and asked the policeman if the right turn was the way to the Beckley Exhibition Coal mine.
    "You don't want to go that way!" He responded.
    He said this with a lot of emphasis so I immediately began to think that my friends and our coach's twin were headed for trouble.
    The policeman gave us more directions.
    "You need to go straight ahead to the next light, take a right and follow the signs. You can't miss it."
    We continued straight ahead. Diane radioed this info to the other coach. We went to the first light, turned right and found ourselves in downtown Beckley.
    Gary found himself in a tight neighborhood with small streets with telephone and power lines hanging almost lower than the coach's air conditioners. This made maneuvering a bit of a drag.
    There was nothing we could do for them except hope for the best, and find a spot to wait for them to disentangle themselves from a small place.
    We pulled into a food mart parking lot located alongside the narrow street that led to the campground.
    We waited about fifteen minutes, but it seemed like half an hour. As soon as Gary and Janis came into sight we made a very tight left turn. I held my breath as I maneuvered the coach around the grocery store sign.
    One thing was sure: We didn't want to miss this place and drive past it, so my eyes were peeled to the streets on our right. At a curve in the road we came along side a telephone pole that was very close to the right curb. A couple of feet past the pole was one of those small campground signs, the kind with the trailer on it, the word campground and an arrow. This arrow was pointing up a very steep hill. I stopped. There was no way I could make that turn.
    "There is no way we can make that turn," said Diane. "We are supposed to check in at the mine, which has to be up ahead. Let's keep going."
    I agreed to that so I started to pull forward. As I did I heard something funny. It was a scraping noise of some kind.
    "STOP! STOP! You are caught on the pole!"
    This terrible but very necessary instruction from Janis emitted from our radio.
    I quickly stopped, and of course thought to myself:
    "What have I done now?"
    I exited the coach expecting to see the side of it crushed like an empty tissue box. Gary was already outside. I looked up to see the pole nesting itself in the 1-foot-wide space between the patio awing and the bedroom topper awing. Two telephone guy wires were broken and caught up in the awing as well.
    There was no damage to the coach itself. We had 1 inch between the pole and the side of the coach.
    This would take some kind of driving to get off the pole. I had only one idea how to get away from it. Do the opposite of what put the coach there in the first place. I told Gary that I was going to turn my wheels hard to the right and back up, toad and all. Then, if we were lucky, the coach would be clear and I could pull it forward. He agreed that it might work and he would give me instructions on the radio. Diane and Nickolas decided to watch from outside so they exited the coach. Now it was up to Gary, myself and some prayer.
    I got back in and used the UFO 55-degree turning ratio for all it was worth. With Gary giving me precise instructions and to the amazement and amusement of many people living along the street we inched that big monster back and forth until it was clear of the nasty pole. I did have to force one driver to back up quite a ways but he looked like he enjoyed it. I continued the one block up the road to the Exhibition main entrance.
    Diane and Nicolas hitched a ride with Gary and Janis. No, I didn't forget her.
    I parked the coach and made an inspection. It seemed that the pole pushed the bedroom topper out of position. It was now back about two feet and the topper was obviously being pulled in a direction it didn't want to go. It looked fixable and after all we were heading for a repair facility.
    At this point I just wanted to park it, eat some dinner, have a beer (now you know what they are really for) and call it a night.
    We did all the above. First we had the fun drive back down to the offending pole where we made a left turn up the steep hill to the campground. It was small but not a bad place. Gary and I repaired the bedroom topper. It took a while to get it back into position. I discovered that the plastic cover at the top of the left patio awning arm was cracked. I felt very thankful that that was all the damage there was. I figured that ESC could take care of it with no problem. I hoped so anyway.
    For the most part it had been a good first day. It ended with a bang, so to speak, but hey it was an adventure. Tomorrow would be another day. The mountains of West Virginian awaited us, then on to Ohio and Indiana.
    But first......a stop at Tamarack.
  18. -Gramps-
    Just a few days before I had this dream Diane, while walking Nickolas our dog, was attacked by a Pit Bull. It almost killed her. Mayber that event triggered the dream. Who knows, the human mind and spirit are wonderful mysteries.
    I Had a Strange Dream Last Night
    I had a strange dream last night. I was having trouble sleeping. My eyes hurt. I couldn't take the light from the clock on my stereo on top of the dresser. I finally heaved myself out of bed and moved a glass candle holder in front of that blasted blue light. Then I stumbled into the bathroom and by the faint glow of a street light coming through the curtained window, opened the medicine cabinet and struggled with a bottle of Advil. I took one with a handful of water and headed back to bed. In the short time I was gone the dog had taken my spot so I told him to move, which he grudgingly did. I crawled in next to Diane and quietly waited for the pill to take effect and help me sleep. At some point it must have worked. Maybe it worked too well.
    I found myself drifting out of my body. Slowly, I drifted about the room. I turned and saw Diane and I curled up as one, Nickolas at our feet. And then everything started to zoom out smaller and smaller until my surroundings were just a blur. I realized I was traveling somewhere at an impossible speed, but I had no idea where, but I felt no fear just a sense of patient anticipation, a strange mixture to be sure. I slowed down and began to recognize where I was, my daughter Jeri's home in Florida. I floated in place, the front of the white house illuminated by the moon. I could see the brown lizards with the blue tails, maybe the same ones I saw on my last visit, running across the walkway to her front door. I wondered how she and her husband Mark were doing, and the thought had barely entered my head when I started moving toward the door and then through it, like it was made out of strings of beads. I could feel myself pass through it; see it separate into segments around me. Once on the other side it appeared to still be solid. I floated into their bedroom, they were asleep, Jeri resting her head on Mark's shoulder. She was gently snoring. I hoped that I did not have to be concerned about them. All is peaceful here I thought.
    The room shrank and disappeared. I found myself flying to wherever again, some things around me recognizable, palm trees, street lights, buildings all blending together in stretched shades of blue and streaks of light. Soon it became so black I could see nothing around me at all. The air became warm and I could smell salt. Then I heard it. I was over the ocean. I moved out from the blackness I was in, to a stadium of stars, a carpet of luminous blue below me. Off in the distance I could see the horizon and perched on it a moving light. I drifted toward it or should I say I was moved toward it, the sea wind blowing gently around me. The lights came closer and closer and then I saw that it was a ship. Is it?....Is it?....It is! The Voyager of the Seas! No doubt about it! But why was I here? I came along the port side of the ship, drifting forward and then up to the top deck, into the bridge, always wanted to visit there, out and then down like a fast moving elevator. I found myself coming to a slow stop in the Royal Promenade. There were only a few people about, all dressed up. Tonight is obviously Formal night, I thought, and it's very late….and …hey this is the Centrum and Wow, Back up! I passed through the decks, one by one and slowed down, turned through the pastel passageway past a familiar Egyptian art display in a glass case and found myself parked, my feet (I guess I had feet) a few inches above the carpet in front of a cabin with the number 1234 on it.
    I know this cabin. Diane and I stayed here! When was it? It must have been a long time ago. I could not remember, my memory suddenly seemed fuzzy for some reason. I slowly passed though the closed door, a sensation I knew I would never get used too, and into the cabin. There was a reading light on over the bed. In the bed was a couple, I assumed they were husband and wife. The balcony curtain was open and the door was cracked, letting the very warm sea breeze blow the shears across the foot of the bed. I could hear the sea massaging the ship. On the couch was a cast off tux, white shirt and tie. A long black velvet dress was hanging neatly from the divider next to the couch. I caught the glint of one gold cuff link sitting next to a gold watch on the nightstand. I hung there and made a slow spin. On the coffee table was a glass of water, numerous bottles of pills, and a partially consumed yellow cake. It has to be their anniversary, I thought. I turned around a bit more. I could see the reflection of the room in the mirror, but the reflection did not include me. I found that a bit curious. I took a closer look at the two people. Though the room felt very warm, she looked pale and was covered up to the chin, except for one arm, with a familiar brown blanket. They looked about my age, maybe a bit younger. I noticed that their hands were clasped so tightly together that the knuckles were white, like they were holding on to each other for dear life.
    "They have been together as Man and Wife for over thirty years."
    My heart leapt in my disembodied chest. I had never heard that voice before but I recognized it at once. A tremendous feeling of peace came over me. I could not speak.
    They have? I thought.
    "Yes, and they have known each other since second grade."
    I looked at those intertwined fingers, and thought there is something wrong.
    "She's dying"
    My feeling of peace started to leave. I found my voice "Why? From what?"
    "Does it matter what?" said the voice gently.
    "No, I guess not." I said "She must be really scared."
    "She is more afraid for him than he is for her" answered the voice.
    "Why, is that? She's the one who is dying!"
    "She is afraid for him because he does not believe in me."
    And then I understood her fear, and I began to understand something else too.
    "He won't ask you to make her well will he?" I said.
    "He refuses, only because he does not know how to ask me."
    "Hasn't she asked you?"
    "She loves him so much that she only talks to me about him."
    "But she believes you can make her well doesn't she?"
    "She believes."
    "So do I."
    "Yes, I know that", said the voice.
    There was a sudden burst of lightning off in the distance. It filled the room like a reflected flash. I looked down at the woman and I could see color come into her face and lips. Her breathing became deeper and a bead of sweat broke out on her upper lip. She let go of her husband's hand sat up looked around the room and I could have sworn she looked right at me.
    "It's hot in here" she said softly.
    And then she kicked the blanket off onto the floor, rolled over on her stomach and put her arm around her husband. It started raining, the wonderful sounds and smells of one of those random little Caribbean squalls being pushed through the open balcony door by a cool breeze.
    I knew it was time to leave. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the somewhat creepy pass back through the door but in an instant my eyes were shocked back open by the sound of loud techno dance music. I was in the Vault. The place was packed. The lights were flashing. I was standing in the back part of the lounge. And I was no longer disembodied. I was wearing my single button tux, wing collared shirt, and the blue brocade vest I wore to our daughter Jeri's wedding. This was weird to say the least. Even stranger was that I knew, somewhere in the room, was a man and a woman that I was supposed to meet. I had to talk to the man first. I went upstairs to the second level bar and walked over to a young man, with a military style haircut, in his thirties most likely, who was sitting at the bar sipping a Coke.
    "Scott?"
    He turned around and gave me a somewhat puzzled look.
    "Yes…do I know you?" he asked.
    "Not exactly, but we do have a mutual friend, who told me to look you up… can I sit here and talk for a minute?"
    "Sure'' he answered. "Who told you I would …"
    Before he could finish his question I had planted myself on a bar chair and interrupted him.
    "I know you recently returned from a very tough tour of duty in Afghanistan. I know you went active from the reserves so you could go there because your sister was killed in the World Trade Center on 911. I know you are on this cruise at the suggestion of friends, who think, or hope that you will meet a, or should I say, The girl who might help bring a little joy back into your life. Am I right?"
    He looked shocked and after a pause and a swallow of his drink he answered.
    "Ah, yea, correct on all counts" he said. And then with a smile added "They told me they were praying that I would find her on this cruise."
    I looked at him hard. "If I told you that the answer to that prayer is downstairs would you let me take you to her?"
    It was now his turn to look hard at me. He did not answer.
    I sang, "Wake up….Wake up Dead Man…Our Father...He's in charge of Heaven, and He made the world in seven…
    Scott finished for me….
    "Would you put a word in… for me…?"
    A moment of silence.
    "That word has been put in. Will you let me take you to her?" I gently asked again.
    He choked out one word
    "Yes."
    "Okay, let's go"
    We walked down the glass stairs to the lower section. On the way I told him a little about Ginny, the girl that he was about to meet.
    "She likes daisies and roses. Her favorite food is seafood and she loves steamed mussels. She likes to dance swing, but she hasn't done it in quite awhile. Her favorite music group is U2. I saw the incredulous look on his face and told him it is my favorite group as well.
    "I am going to tell you one more thing and then the rest is better left up to you. Her fiancé was killed at the Pentagon."
    "On 911?" said Scott.
    "Yes."
    I led the way to a table with two attractive women sitting at it. One sat quietly in her chair, the other was more animated. It was obvious that they were sisters. Not twins but close.
    "Hello there."
    They turned around and look up at us. I took Ginny's hand and as I gently raised her out of her seat I said:
    "Ginny this is Scott. Scott this is Ginny. It has been divinely arranged for the two of you to meet on this night at this time and at this place. Now I think you two should sit down and start getting to know each other."
    Ginny looked nervously at me and then at Scott, who gave her a warm smile. She seemed to relax a bit and looked at her sister who was now on her feet as well.
    "This is my sister and I…'
    "Don't you worry about Barbara, she and I will finish this dance." I said
    I took the sister by the hand and as I led her to the dance floor I whispered to Scott
    "Walk on Scott, Walk on"
    He smiled. I am sure he got my message.
    Barbara looked at me like I was a mildly crazy person. We reached the floor just as the song Caught in a Moment finished playing (the evening was planned don't forget) I leaned close to Barbara's ear.
    "Scott is the direct answer to your very direct prayer. You have to keep this a secret; they will get married on your birthday."
    She started to cry.
    The song ended, the moment was over and I said goodbye.
    "I have to go." I said. "You, your sister, and Scott are going to have a good life; you just have to choose to live it."
    Barbara looked at me, nodded and said "Who are you? What is your name?"
    "My name is Derrick and I'm Diane's husband."
    I held one of her hands in both of mine for a moment and then walked out the door to the Centrum on deck three. I was not at all sure what to do next. Just a few minutes earlier I was practically a ghost and now I was literally standing in front of an elevator, by myself in a tuxedo with no place to go. I reached out and pushed the elevator button. It came; I stepped in, the carpet said Tuesday. When I went to bed it was Friday, and I seemed to remember that Voyager's formal nights were Monday and Thursday. Space and time were a bit off. I took the elevator to deck 5 because I wanted to walk the Royal Promenade as long as I could actually walk. The elevator opened and instead of turning right towards the Café Promenade and all its goodies (I don't know if I could have eaten one or not) I had the urge to turn left into Cleopatra's Needle. I walked in. The place was packed with people. It was Karaoke night just like the Tuesday night on my cruise. I stood out of the way in the back. I felt a little self conscious considering I was the only man in a tux, but no one seemed to notice me at all. I began to wonder if they could even see me. A couple of people sang and the order seemed very familiar. And then I heard my named called.
    "Is Derrick here?"
    I hesitated to answer; after all I was not sure I was really here or not. Before I could decide what to do a man sitting on the edge of the dance floor stood up and walked over to the host or hostess. She handed him the mike and said tell everyone your name, where you are from and why you are here.
    "Hi, my name is Derrick; I'm from Portsmouth Virginia……"
    A big cheer went up from the section to the left of the floor. I almost fell over because I stupidly realized that I was watching myself. Talk about Déjà vu. I had to sit down. As I took a chair next to an older couple I heard myself say:
    "… and I am celebrating my 30th anniversary. I would like to sing this song to my wife Diane who is sitting over there". He or I pointed to where she was sitting with her shoes off and her feet up on the chair in front of her.
    The other I then stepped towards Diane. There was a big cheer, as I remembered it; only out in the audience it was really loud. The music started, this time I was a spectator. I watched myself look at my wife and she looked back and neither looked away, even for a second.
    Most of the people around me were chatting with each other. But as the song progressed they stopped talking and started to listen, really listen…
    If I called you every time that I think of you…the phone would be ringing, all day.
    I keep thinking these feelings will mellow with time but not yet, no way. We've had our share of heartache and trouble, we can look back and laugh at it now, but a mystery keeps haunting me, how we hurt those we love most somehow, somehow.
    A real love expression is long overdue, so hear my confession of my love for you-I just never say it enough, and before it's too late and time's up; you're more than all I dreamed you'd be, an answered prayer, a gift of God above. But I just never say it enough.
    I believe God inhabits the human heart. I believe it more now than ever before and I see His reflection in You, in You, and I'm sure, yes I'm sure.. that a real love expression is long overdue, so hear my confession of my love for you- I just never say it enough…so before it's too late and time's up, you're more than all I dreamed you'd be, an answered prayer, a gift of God above.
    Some of the women started to cry, some of the men too. I had no idea that the song had that much impact and then I realized my face was wet also.
    But I just never say it enough. I just never say it; I just never say it enough. Nooo, I just never say it, I just never say it enough. Noooo… oh…. oh."
    I finished the song, the crowd all came to their feet and cheered, and it was loud. I watched myself put the mike back on the stand, take a little bow and run over and kiss Diane. I knew she was crying also.
    The hostess then told the audience that I was not part of the competition; I just wanted to sing something special for my wife and she hoped that after thirty years that they would be as much in love as Derrick and Diane.
    It was very strange. I wanted to soak up the moment from this perspective but I could not help but notice the older couple sitting next to me.
    The man looked familiar and then I remembered that Diane and I met him on the pier in San Juan. We were both on the Explorer and he told me he was a retired Israeli fighter pilot. He had served during the Six Day War.
    During the song the woman, who must be his wife, took his hand and stroked it. At first he did not seem to respond. But now, he twisted his seat around so that he could look directly at her.
    "I'm sorry, so sorry. I should not have gotten so mad at her. But what could I do? Now she is gone and I am dying inside. I have hurt you so much. How will we be able to look back at this? How will we be able to smile again, how can I laugh again?"
    The wife looked at him.
    "I don't know how, but we will, the song says so, somehow with God's help, we will."
    They both looked so unhappy and full of sorrow. I had a feeling that they had lost someone very close to them
    "Tell them that Sarah is with me"
    The voice startled me.
    "Derrick, tell them that their grand daughter Sarah is with me and that she is fine."
    I had to do what He said. I moved over in front of them and went down on one knee.
    "Hello, my name is Derrick…"
    They both looked at me and then looked again and then both of them looked at the couple sitting on the edge of the dance floor, the man, me, with his arm around his wife.
    I hoped that they were not about to scream or pass out or both.
    The man was speechless the woman finally spoke.
    "How can you be here and there…"
    I put my finger on my lips.
    "Shh, that is not so easy to explain. Besides I have something very important to tell you.
    Your grand daughter Sarah is in heaven, she is doing fine, and loves you both very much"
    They both stared at me for a long, long second and then the man took my arm.
    Tears ran slowly down his cheek as he told me that he had argued with Sarah about the man she planned to marry.
    "I did not approve of him at all. I did not like his family. They are not of our faith. Sarah said he is a good man, an honorable man who loves God and her. I became very angry and told her that she was as good as dead to me if she married this man."
    He had to pause. I waited.
    "She did not get the chance to marry him.. She died, at the hand of a terrorist. She was attending a birthday party for one of his friends and it was bombed. She was with him. He barley survived. I blamed him for her death. . I was a fool."
    His wife smiled gently
    "Yes you were" she said.
    "What should I do now?" he asked.
    "Love your wife, have peace, and ask the man that was to be Sarah's husband to forgive you. And be his friend. Be the Grandfather in law that you would have been. That is what you should do."
    "I think I can do that."
    I stood up, they stood with me and I embraced them both.
    "God be with you "
    "And you" he answered.
    I turned and walked out of the lounge and into the Royal Promenade. I slowly walked the length of the ship looking up at the windows of the cabins and into the shops. I thought about my time on this ship. When I was here I was relaxed. I trusted the captain and the crew to look after me and my wife. I knew that the ship and its' crew would provide everything we needed and then some. I never had the thought of telling the captain that I wanted to be in charge of my trip, that I wanted to pilot the ship because I did not like where it was going or because it was not getting there fast enough. I put my wife and my life in his hands so to speak. Should I not put the same trust into the Captain of the greatest voyage of all, the voyage called Life?
    I wanted to see the ocean so I went through the glass sliding door out to the deck. I walked over to the railing and I put my hands down on nothing. I found myself passing through the railing and out into the open air the ship slowly moving away from me. I was not worried. I must be going home.
    I floated there for a long time, the ship moving farther and farther away until once again it was just a few lights on the horizon. I looked at the millions of stars above me and the luminous blue below. And then everything became a blur again.
    I flew quickly toward home, soundlessly. I began to slow and soon I recognized the lights of my town. I have seen them from the air many times. But something seemed different; things were missing and others out of place. I drifted down to an empty downtown street. Not a soul about. Now I knew something was not right. The brand new fifteen story hotel was missing. A completed condo now looked half built. I realized that I was looking at Portsmouth some years earlier. I was not concerned, not after what had taken place the last few hours or minutes or days.
    Slowly I floated down street after street until I came to a hospital. I drifted through the front door. There were only a few people about. This had to be the past because this hospital had been closed for years. It was obvious that no one could see me. I continued up through the ceiling and found myself in the maternity ward. It was very quiet, most of the lights turned off. As I passed by an open door I could hear the sound of a new mother singing to her new baby. I moved down the hall through a partially opened door into a room. Lying on the bed was a young man, a lot younger than me anyway. His hands covered his face and it sounded like he was talking to himself, no he's praying. He had on jeans and sneakers and a gray Swatch watch just like an old watch that I own. He dropped his hands for a moment and then I knew exactly where I was and when. It was eighteen years ago, the night that my son was born; the night that he was so sick and my wife almost died. I knew she was in recovery from emergency surgery and my son was in the neonatal unit of the hospital. The man lying on the bed was me.
    For the first time during this strange trip of mine, I felt fear. The same fear and near panic I felt that May night eighteen years ago, the fear that I would loose two people. I did not want to experience that kind of fear again. I wondered why I was here.
    "You are here to tell him everything will be fine." said the voice. "You are here to tell him not to fear. That I have heard him and his family will be well."
    "How do I tell him or me? Can I see me? I mean I think I would have remembered if I met myself that night. I would have had a heart attack or something"
    I was sure I spoke out loud and it I could see that the younger me did not hear a thing.
    "Whisper to his heart and to his mind, he will hear you."
    "Lord, I don't understand, can't you do that? Why do you need me?"
    "Derrick you know the future, you know that it turned out fine, you can speak with complete confidence and the younger you needs to learn that when I speak to people, I do so quietly to their hearts and minds, and with the sound of their own voice. I don't set bushes on fire anymore. I don't write on walls. I simply give peace, a peace that is hard to understand but is very real… so speak for me."
    I did not know what else to do but move close to my own ear.
    "It's okay. Joel is fine, relax, get up and go see him. And then go to Diane and tell her that your son is doing well."
    The face of the me on the bed no longer looked strained and worried. He stretched, got up, took a sip of water from a glass on the bed tray and then left the room. I followed and watched him go into the nursery where his son, his little body full of tubes, lay in an incubator. He reached in and rubbed the little boy's back.
    I knew that Diane was just down the hall. She lay there in a morphine induced sleep. I knew she would be okay. There was only one thing that I wanted to do now.
    "Can I go home?"
    There was a very quick blur and I guess at the speed of thought, I found myself back in my bed with my feet solidly under the dog, my wife, with her bandaged ankle and arm lying exactly where I had left her, curled right next to me.
    "Where did you go?" My wife asked sleepily.
    "Honey, I have been lying here the whole night, except when I got up to get an Advil"
    "Oh, you were gone so long. I'm glad you're back."
    "Me too, go back to sleep."
    The dog yawned, I yawned and I thought about this cruise we are on. This cruise called Life. I know the captain. No need to worry.
    Derrick
  19. -Gramps-

    The Course of Dreams

    By -Gramps-,

    If you have been reading my earlier blog entries, you know that I have said that a motor coach will improve your life, if you let it. I said it will improve your life in many ways. Your coach can take you to places you might not think to go to if you traveled like most "normal" people, carrying your bags and staying in hotels. It can also help you to make friends. Recently for Diane and I, our coach has done both.
    This has been a rough year for the two of us. Mike, my best friend and business partner for the last 10 years, discovered last Christmas that he had stage-four lung cancer that had spread to his stomach and esophagus. He had to virtually quit working and just try to survive. I took over the whole work load and tried to make an income for us both. So, while Mike went for radiation treatments and lived off smoothies and Ensure, I took care of our customers. This lasted for three months.
    During the week of March 20, while Diane and I were in Florida visiting my daughter, her husband and son, Mike went into the hospital on a Friday and died two days later. He had just collected a large check, the final payment on a large install we had done some two months earlier. He deposited it into the bank that same Friday morning. He died and all accounts were immediately frozen by his bank. He left no will or instructions of any kind as to how his affairs were to be handled. This caused a lot of problems. I can only assume that because of his illness, his books were, to put it mildly, a wreck.
    It would take another two months almost from the day he died for me to help his family figure out what he owed and what was owed to him. I helped him start his own business and now I had to close it out.
    It was heartbreaking to scan his list of jobs and to remember the projects we had worked on together for so long. It was also stressful for all the months of his illness and for the two months afterward to not have any income from most of the work we had done together. It was a huge relief the day in May that his daughter was finally able to pay me for the work I had done for Mike, but at the same time it was killing me that my friend for 20 years was gone.
    Diane didn't know what she was going to do to help me get through my terrible depression and anxiety over losing my friend. His death was taking a part of me with him. It's funny, but when my wife's father died that was one of the things I was worried about for her, that his death would kill part of her. However, she remained strong the whole time and now here I was, making everyone around me almost as miserable as I was.
    It was on one of my lowest days when our friends Gary and Janis called and said they were looking at a new coach and wanted to ask some questions about ours. Helping them purchase a new coach was just the right therapy for me. If you read my first blog entry you know that I said they were a Godsend. Now you know why. I lost one friend and God sent me, us, two new ones.
    Diane and I took a short trip with Gary and Janis and we managed to get to FMCA's GEAR rally in Richmond, where we had a really good time, joined the Colonial Virginians FMCA chapter and made some great new friends. Once those two trips were done, I found I was so far behind in servicing and paying company bills that I really needed to work hard for the next few weeks. By mid-July I was caught up, but as a result I was ready for a break from it all.
    We thought about attending the FMCA rally in Bowling Green, Ohio, but we could not be sure to get there on time, so we decided it would be better to find someplace closer. Diane had visited a booth at the GEAR rally that was giving away three free nights at a brand-new motor coach resort in Galax, Va... She suggested we call them. I wasn't all that enthusiastic about it. What's in Galax? I knew it was close to the Blue Ridge Parkway and also it was not too far from where my parents live, so why not go there for awhile? Diane called the resort. Barry, the owner and developer, said come on out and visit us.
    We went to Deer Creek Motorcoach Resort expecting to stay for about three days.
    We stayed for two weeks.
    I fell for the place as soon as we drove through the gate. The whole resort was laid out like a big green map right in front of us. On the far end was a big hill with green grass and many grazing cows that stretched up to a wonderful blue sky. The asphalt access roads are all three times wider than a coach. Most of the sites are not yet developed, but they were all grassed over waiting to be bought and the pads poured. Rock-banked creeks cut across the resort adding to the whole lovely look of the place; plus, they make a great sound.
    Next to the gate is a handsome log clubhouse with a green metal roof and mini golf course. Just on the other side of the clubhouse is a beautiful nine-hole golf course. Just to the other side of the golf course is Deer Creek Rv Resort.
    We parked in a guest lot (number 3), a pull-in right next to a running creek. We hooked up, set up the patio. I grabbed a beer and took a seat and just took in the view. It took all of 10 minutes just sitting there for me to feel the tension and anxiety of the past few months just start to fall off my shoulders. I started to feel very much at home.
    There were not many coaches there -- five, and six counting ours. The owners saw us arrive and soon they started walking over to say hello: Beverly and Dan, Shirley and Sheldon, Ron, Gordy and Judy. Barry, the developer, came by and soon we learned that he was going to pick up his new-to-him 94 Marathon coach in the next few days. He planned to fly with his wife, Laura, to Florida, and drive it back. It would be his first RV. He was a bit nervous but I assured him he didn't have much to worry about.
    We soon found out that all the owners get together on a regular basis at the the clubhouse for a potluck supper most every weekend, if not sooner. To make a long story a bit shorter, I ended up grilling for everyone, twice! Steaks one night, chicken and waffle sandwiches with home frys and grilled corn on the cob another night. The ladies did the shopping, and I did the cooking.
    My parents came to visit us the first weekend we were there. They stayed in the coach. We went to the Smoke on the Mountain State Barbecue championship in Galax. On Friday we antiqued and ate barbecue. It was so good we did the same thing all over again on Saturday. We played mini golf. I also played golf with my parents. My Mom is in her late seventies and my Dad is in his eighties and both had a blast out on the course. It was a great visit, one of the best my wife and I have had with my folks for a long time.
    The next weekend, Gary and Janis drove their coach up and backed into lot number 2. They went with us to visit the Blue Ridge Parkway, Mt Airy, also known as Mayberry, and the Shelton Winery located not far away. Gary and I hit the links as well.
    During the week between visits from family and close friends, I made new ones. I also installed Wi-Fi for the resort at no charge for my labor. Everyone was being so kind and generous to us; I wanted to do something in return. I flew kites (I collect them). Diane and I played Bocce. We went hiking and explored other nearby towns.
    My friend Mike was a devout boater and fisherman. He also loved to golf. I went boating with him once. We talked about going on a fishing trip and staying in the RV. We also talked about golfing together but it never happened. We ran out of time before we could do either one.
    So, I thought about Mike while I was out on the course. Most of the time I was the only one playing. I had the nine holes all to myself, well, almost to myself. I felt like Mike was there with me, on this course of dreams, laughing at me when I shanked the ball really badly.
    We have been back to Deer Creek since that time. We are hoping to buy lot number 3. I am also hoping to improve my golf swing. I am getting tired of Mike laughing at me!
    The following pictures should show you why I think this place is special.







  20. -Gramps-
    It's Easter Morning. This is a morning to celebrate Life, new life. I can see it out my office window. I see it in my grand boys; they are here in my office, playing on my computers. Because it is such a good morning I have the urge to share something with you, something that celebrates life.
    In October 2002 Diane and I went on an eight-night cruise. The ship was Royal Caribbean's Voyager of the Seas. We were there to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary. Joel would be entering college the next year so it would be our last cruise for awhile. We didn't know at the time that we would purchase a land yacht (motorhome) and that it would be our last cruise for a very long time. We have not taken one since. Not on water, anyway. Now all our cruises are on land. We don't mind that one bit. Motorhoming is a better bargain when you consider the actual cost of cabin and food on a per cruise trip basis. Plus we are sleeping under our own sheets.
    I kept a daily journal (this was before the invention of the term "blog") of this cruise and published it as a 10-part series on the web at Cruise Critic.Com. It received thousands of views and many comments from around the world. It was very interesting to hear from people in Ireland, Canada, New Zealand and many other places.
    I suspect that some fellow Land Cruisers here also like to take a sea cruise every now and then, so maybe you would enjoy reading one part of the series. What does the journal have to do with my opening paragraph? It's a bit hard to explain. One Sunday morning, a few weeks after our cruise, I was sitting in church. The pastor's message was not resonating with me and I found myself thinking about a dream I had. The dream turned into a partially fictional story that I wrote in my head while sitting there. I put it down on paper as soon as I got home. Many people, who read it, said they wanted to believe it is a completely true story. Read it for yourself and you will find out how it celebrates life. It needs to be set up though, so you need to know what happened the third day of our cruise, then the dream story will make sense to you. If you have taken a cruise before, then you have an idea what goes on aboard ship and you should you enjoy reading this. If you have not been on a cruise I hope you enjoy my story anyway.
    Part V Day Three-Tuesday and Labadee is over there.
    Another morning of delight began, another morning with no alarm clocks, no Katie Couric, no disturbing pager calls. Today is going to be a great day; a day of nothing to do and happy to do it. I awoke slowly, very slowly, and took a look out the open balcony door. I could see the village of Labadee. The resort area was on the other side of the ship.
    I slipped on my robe and stepped out on the balcony. It was already very hot. I looked down at the blue-green water and immediately noticed large jellyfish swimming by the dozens, ghostly white beach umbrellas opening and closing. I was seeing these creatures from deck 10, they had to be really huge, not something that I wanted to meet at eye level. This was not swimming with the sting rays. The bay's salt content must be down due to a lot of rain water pouring into the bay from the mountains. We could thank Kyle for providing optimum conditions for these unpleasant creatures. However, the heat and the jellyfish were not going to be a problem for us, Diane and I had no plans to leave the ship. Unless you were kayaking (we did that the year before) or wave running (book them before the cruise) Labadee was a day of lying by the sea. Reclining around the Solarium pool with a good book and a good woman seemed a much better plan to me.
    I stepped back in, leaned down on the bed and ran my hand slowly down Diane's bare back. After thirty years the touch of her skin still causes my fingers to tingle. She rolled over and smiled.
    We were ready for breakfast, a brisk walk and then lounging around the pool with a great selection of chairs. Diane put on her swimsuit and cover-up; I put on my Speedos, (Remember? They are big red shorts) a Del Sol T-shirt and sneakers. We retrieved our sunglasses from the swans. We ran the stairs up one deck and aft to the Windjammer. No line, this IS a great day. We sat there eating our eggs and smoked salmon, melon, and sausage as the wave runners zipped around the ship sounding like a herd of wet weed whackers.
    They did look like fun. Off in the distance, I could see the parasail and the blue, green and orange kayaks. This was a most pleasant sight. We took our time sipping our water and nibbling on a second helping of cantaloupe.
    Off to deck 4, of course, for our morning constitutional. We had the urge to put on some speed this morning. I tended to get ahead of Diane so I would circle the helipad until she caught up. The section of deck around the dining room was closed for cleaning so we had to detour through the auto sliding doors past La Scala. If I hit the sensor just right and made a circle, we could slip through without breaking our pace. It looked weird but it worked. And the icy blast of air felt great.
    We were flying, around the deck, up the stairs, down the stairs, through the doors, around the port side, and....what is that awful smell?
    "Diane do you smell that or is it just me?"
    "It is you" she replied. I sat myself up for that corn toss. But there was a bad smell coming from a large blowing vent on the port side. I am guessing that it was the exhaust port for the garbage incinerator. We never noticed the smell at any other time. The source is still a mystery.
    We finished our walk; we worked up a good sweat which should make the cool pool feel great. We headed topside with a stop to pick up towels, (the note said to return them or be charged twenty dollars, this prevents people from leaving them on the chairs I betcha) and we grabbed sun screen, and books. The Solarium had about five people there when we arrived. The hardest decision of the daytime now faced us. Where do we sit? There? No. Over there? No. Here? Okay. Weary from decision making, we stripped to our swimsuits and I started to sit down. "I going to the spa at the party pool, this one is closed." Get in hot water? Okay. We walked to the main pool area and entered a spa. We had it to ourselves just long enough for me to figure out the controls and get the jets moving when another couple entered the pool. We chatted with them and found out the lady could not tolerate a lot of sun, and they also noticed the jellyfish. They were enjoying the cruise; she had been in the spa the day before and received the seaweed wrap, which she found to be wonderful, and afterwards bought 600 dollars worth of stuff. I could tell by the look on her husband's face that he did not find that so wonderful.
    We sat in the soup for about fifteen minutes and then went back to the Solarium pool. Without hesitation, I dove in. The water felt great, we splashed each other for awhile and then hit the chairs and did nothing until lunch time. Well, not exactly nothing. I did a lot of thinking. I reflected on the last year, all the emotional, mental, and physical pain that Diane and I had to share. The main reason for this Cruise was to have healing moments like this one.
    I was reading an inspirational book titled God's Psychiatry:
    One of the finest ways to relieve tension in your life is to picture still water clearly in your mind. Maybe a little lake nestling among some pines. Maybe a tiny, cool spring on some hillside. Maybe a calm sea with gentle rippling waves.
    After the picture becomes clear, then start repeating and believing, "He leadeth me beside the still waters." Such an experience produces a marvelous surrender and trust that enables one to face the heat of the day confidently, knowing there is refreshing and relaxed power awaiting under the leadership of one wiser than we.
    I did not have to imagine a still sea, I was on one.
    I must have slept some, because the next thing I knew it was after one. Diane, not wearing a watch but in tuned to her internal clock, informed me it was time to eat, so off to the Windjammer. It was closed. If you wanted a big lunch you best be on the Island or in the dining room. Wait! How about Johnny Rockets? That would be different. Up another deck and we were there.
    I liked the place; it reminded me of the Silver Diner. Good food and good music. We ordered the chicken club on wheat and one strawberry milkshake to share. The shake was so thick I thought I was going to pass out trying to suck it through my straw.
    After lunch back to the pool. At about three the Solarium started to fill up with people, I am not sure why. Some time after the Ships horn blew we were pretty sun soaked so we headed down to the cabin. Once there we took our time showering, and we were both on the balcony when the ship started sailing a bit late for Jamaica. I snapped a few pics.
    We lounged around the cabin reading and after five we started getting dressed for dinner. Diane put on a long form fitting purple dress with a red and purple scarf around her shoulders; I put on a Jones New York gray plaid suit with an iridescent purple-blue shirt and a color coordinated J.Garcia tie. I put a silver pocket watch in my right pants pocket. I also put something special in my inside coat pocket.
    We left with a little time on our hands, so we moseyed around the shops and had a couple more pictures taken, which we did not buy, and went to dinner.
    We may have gone down to the photo area and played "who can find the picture of us first game." I always loose.
    Tonight was Venetian night, and I looked forward to it, just like all the nights. We sat down and noticed that the younger newlyweds were not present. Wanich, who always addressed us by our first names, gave us a cheerful greeting and made his recommendations. We ordered a bottle of red wine, Mondavi, I think. I don't like red, but I liked this one. I ordered the tomato salad, roasted garlic soup, and went for the steak again. Diane ordered a lamb dish as her main course.
    Everyone went to Labadee except us. Mike and Betty said they wished they had not. Due to the extreme heat they decided to return. They spent more time waiting to board a tender than on the island itself. I commented on how quiet it was around the pool.
    Dessert was great as usual and all of us left a little earlier than usual because we wanted to attend the Crown and Anchor welcome back reception.
    The reception was in Cleopatra's Needle and there were free drinks and chocolate covered strawberries and such. Captain Olsen made a speech and recognized the couple that had made the most cruises with RCCL, one hundred and eleven, and awarded them a big bottle of champagne. Lynn made her Crown and Anchor pitch again. I considered that to be unnecessary since all present were already members. The floor was then opened to questions for the captain; any kind of question.
    I thought this should be interesting. It went something like this:
    Q. How do you spend time with your wife?
    A. How do you spend time with your wife?
    Q. How much money do you make?
    A. Not much but we have great vacations.
    Q. How many miles to the gallon does the ship get?
    A. It doesn't, it gets 55 feet to the gallon of fuel.
    Q. How did you meet your wife from Kentucky?
    A. I meet her on a cruise ship.
    You get the drift, really intelligent questions. From behind me a women jumped up and yelled Tor! And then asked something in what was obviously Norwegian. I looked around and it was the windmill lady. The Captain looked perturbed at the question and answered in English. "No, I have no plans to visit (somewhere) when I return to Norway and that was not my mother asking." The woman let out this huge and I mean huge laugh.
    And that was the end of that. Do not address the Captain by his first name even if you are from the same country.
    It was now time to see Two Funny Guys, I first excused myself to the men's room but that is not where I went.
    I walked back to our seats and took Diane's hand and we went down to deck 3 and sat very close to the stage. We were now in the most crowded section, so I looked longingly at a couple of empty seats in the mezzanine. We did not move. The Two Funny Guys were funny. They came on after Jeffrey made his very funny comments about the Hey Mon, smoke sellers in Jamaica. The Two Funny Guys interacted with the audience, yelled at them for being late, that sort of thing.
    After the show it was back to Cleopatra's Needle for the big Karaoke semi finale competition. We sat down up front right next to the dance floor. The singing started. Diane picked up a song list and started browsing through it while I sat there with my right leg bouncing a mile a minute. I was thirsty and needed some bottled water. I took my coat off, and then I put it back on, and then took it back off. Diane said "are you okay?" Just thirsty. "we can go to the promenade and get some water and come right back" No, I don't want to leave. A few people sang, some good, most bad. After the fifth or sixth person sang, the hostess, Michele I think, asked if Derrick is here. I stood up and walked to the microphone in front of the video prompter. Diane looked shocked. She knew I had no interest in singing a Karaoke song.
    Michele then said for me to tell the audience (the place was packed) my name, where I was from, and what I was doing.
    "Hello, my name is Derrick, I'm from Portsmouth Va. (a big cheer came up from my right) and I am celebrating my 30th anniversary. I would like to sing this song to my wife Diane who is sitting over there". I pointed to her where she was sitting with her shoes off and her feet up on the chair in front of her.
    I then stepped away from the monitor and moved toward her. A big cheer went up. The music started, it was not a Karaoke song, it was music that I had brought myself, a very slow but jazzy ballad called I Just Never Say It Enough, by Wayne Watson.
    I sang to Diane. I looked her in the eyes and never looked away.
    If I called you every time that I think of you, the phone would be ringing all day. I keep thinking these feelings will mellow with time but not yet, no way. We've had our share of heartache and trouble, we can look back and laugh at it now, but a mystery keeps haunting me, how we hurt those we love most somehow, somehow.
    A real love expression is long overdue, so hear my confession of my love for you-I just never say it enough and before it's too late and time's up; you're more than all I dreamed you'd be, an answered prayer, a gift of God above. But I just never say it enough.
    I believe God inhabits the human heart. I believe it more now than ever before and I see His reflection in You, in You and I'm sure, yes I'm sure that a real love expression is long overdue, so hear my confession of my love for you- I just never say it enough…so before it's too late and time's up, you're more than all I dreamed you'd be an answered prayer, a gift of God above.
    But I just never say it enough. I just never say it; I just never say it enough. Nooo, I just never say it, I just never say it enough. Noooo...oh...oh.
    I finished the song, I have sung before at my Church, but never in front of a crowd quite this happy. The all came to their feet and cheered, and it was loud. I put the mike back on the stand, took a little bow and ran over and kissed Diane.
    Michele then told the audience that I was not part of the competition; I just wanted to sing something special for my wife.
    Sometime later a gentleman with a large group won the competition with his great rendition of Proud to be an American. We all cheered for him.
    He was good, but not as good as me. That was Diane's opinion, not mine.
    Karaoke ended and many people came over to congratulate us, including the right side people, who were there from Virginia Beach, thus the reason for the cheer. The man who won said "you had us all crying over here".
    An hour or so later, after a walk and a snack, and a trip to the Vault that did not last long, we went to our cabin and found a cute dog sitting on the bed.
    I knew it was going to be a good day. It turned out better than planned.
    Derrick
  21. -Gramps-

    Today

    By -Gramps-,

    Well today was a rare day. Actually it has been a beautiful day. I took advantage of the great weather and did some work on our coach. I installed a Trik-l-Start to keep the chassis battery charged. The install was quite easy to do. I mounted the thing in my outside front wiring bay under the drivers seat. I read the directions first so that may have helped prevent a problem. I aslo added an over the door awning arm lock. I think there should have been two of them to begin because I ordered the lock and they only come in pairs. For some reason the coach came with only one. With one lock, one side of the awing would try to unroll, while going down the road, and that made a very unpleasant thumping noise. That irritation is now resolved.
    The best modification I did to the coach was to change the wiper arms and blades yesterday. I now have blades with a smaller j-hook which allows me to use the new 32 inch frameless wiper blades made by Tru Vision. These blades should hug the big curved windshield and hopefully the blade on the driver's side will no longer fly off and end up over the rearview mirror during a heavy rain.
    Last week I removed the twenty inch CRT telly from its swing out cabinet in the bedroom. I installed a 26 inch LCD in its place. I think my work looks pretty good. Now I have a digital convertor box that may end up, along with a tv, in a furture yard sale.
    I still have a few coach things left to do. Add a wall paper border in the bedroom and purchase some cleaning supplies. All this is in preperation for our trip to Elkhart. We leave on Thursday. I am looking forward to a good long road trip. It will give me something new to write about.
    Derrick
  22. -Gramps-
    This past weekend we traveled to Shawboro, North Carolina for a camp out with our Good Sam's Chapter. Four coaches were there and our small group had a great time. Friday night it was a quick group dinner of steamed shrimp, potato and bacon soup, cornbread, tossed salad with blue cheese crumbles and plenty of good cookies for dessert. Then the ladies played Mexican Train while us men shot the breeze for awhile and then we played a number of hands of King's Corner. Saturday morning it was scrambled eggs, biscuits with sausage gravy, yogurt with tropical fruit and some huge muffins.
    During the afternoon Diane and I worked on the coach. After three months of sitting it needed some work.
    Saturday night it was corned beef and cabbage, in honor of St Paddy's day of course. We played a bunch of rounds of bingo for prizes, finished up our game of King's Corner and then played a rousing few rounds of Sequence (my new favorite game).
    It was good to get out again. We had a lot of simple fun. The only mishap was the almost loss of a wiper arm on the way down. That would not have been the first time. It seems my coach suffers from a too curved windshield and if the wipers are set to high while driving (in the rain of course) above fifty five, the wind may lift the driver side blade off the windshield and then it wraps itself around the rear view mirror. I am glad that there is a lot of Rain-X on my windshield or I would not have been able to see at all. Not a fun moment when it happens. On my list of bad moments I would put it down around twelve, which brings me back to the real purpose of this blog entry:
    Another Not So Good Coach Moment:
    Road Rage?
    This not-so-good moment happened on the same day my coach was stuck in the mud. Not long after the Bounder was pulled from its trap, Joel, Diane and I said our goodbyes to my parents and we were on the road again. For miles we could hear mud coming off the sides and the undercarriage of the coach, but other than my normally shiny coach now looking rather shabby, we were not bad off. My nerves were a bit shot, but I expected them to settle down while driving home. We had one stop to make first. We had planned on visiting Diane's cousin Elaine in Raleigh, North Carolina, spend some time with her including dinner together, continue on home and arrive around dark. Due to our muddy misadventure we were now running late. We would have to shorten our time with Elaine, but dinner was still on the agenda. We had plans to meet at the Cracker Barrel not far from the Raleigh Durham airport just off I-40.
    After about an hour on the road we found ourselves near the busy intersection of Interstate 85 and 40. We made it through the intersection. Diane and I were chatting about the confusing directions coming from our GPS when this small dark car zoomed from directly behind and came up next to my window. I looked down at the driver. He was leaning over to the passenger side of his car, yelling at me. I had no idea what he was saying. He started waving his right arm around, then both arms, yelling even louder, but with no clarity at all.
    "Diane what does that guy want?"
    "I don't know, but he sure is acting strange." She got up and leaned over my seat.
    Suddenly he speed up. As soon as he was way out in front of me he headed over to the shoulder of the road. I glanced over to my right so I could keep an eye on him as we passed. Then I watched him in the rear view mirror. I figured that was the end of it, but it wasn't. A couple of seconds after we passed him, he took off. He crossed the right lane, coming up on my left again. This time he was practically hanging out of the passenger window yelling like a mad man, arms going like a windmill. I still had no idea what he was doing or trying to tell me.
    "What does he want? Do we have a flat? Are we on fire, I don't get it?" I said.
    "I don't know" Diane replied as she opened my window in an attempt to understand what he was yelling. "I can't understand him at all."
    Joel, one to never miss life's little comparisons made an observation.
    "He would make a good trunk monkey."
    That could have been funny except for the fact this guy was weaving in his lane. I was beginning to think he might swerve over and hit us.
    I found myself edging to the far right of my lane. I hit the zipper. I moved over. This was getting scarier by the moment, then the guy zoomed off in front and moved over to the shoulder again. Something told me he wasn't going to stay there. I was right.
    The third time was not charming. He zoomed up even faster this time, with a new tactic. He hit his horn, adding the noise to his arsenal of gestures. We could see that he was still yelling but we couldn't hear him over his horn. I resisted the urge to push my horn in return.
    "Why is he so mad? Did we cut him off or something?" I yelled.
    "Maybe we threw mud at him and he suffers from road rage" Joel responded.
    I almost believed that was possible, but I figured we lost the last of the mud off the coach fifty miles behind us.
    He was swerving and most likely swearing a lot now. It was getting harder to keep my eyes on the road in front, and keep my eye on him at the same time.
    Diane saw an exit sign.
    "Pull off there" she pointed to the distant off ramp just to the right of an overpass. "Maybe he won't follow us."
    "MAYBE he won't follow us? What if he does?" I asked.
    "Well, we will be safer off the interstate that is for sure."
    I had to agree with that, so I was going to signal a turn, but something told me don't. I decided that I didn't want this person to see my side blinker. He would then know what I was going to do. If we exited at the last moment, hopefully it would leave him no time to get over, follow us, then shoot us all, or whatever it was he wanted to do.
    He made it easier to get away because for the third time he zoomed ahead. He passed the exit. Now was our chance to get away. At the last possible second I moved to the right, punched the gas and headed up the ramp. The light at the top was green so I took a right turn. We headed for a shopping center.
    "Did he follow us?" I asked no one in particular.
    Joel, from his position on the couch, responded first.
    "I think we lost him."
    I parked the coach. I sat there for a moment. Then I opened a console drawer and pulled out my tire gauge.
    "I'm going to check outside."
    I left the coach for a quick walk around. All the basement doors were closed. The awing wasn't open, the antennae was down. My Crossfires showed proper rear tire pressure. The fronts looked normal, but I checked them anyway, just to be sure. They were fine but I wasn't. That diver had really scared me. The reason for his behavior was a mystery that would not be solved, which may have been a good thing. I really didn't care for my family to be part of a headline.
    I went back in the coach, used the bathroom, threw some water on my face. We were back on the interstate again in about ten minutes.
    We didn't talk much for the rest of our trip. I put on a Frank Sinatra CD and tried to calm down. It had been a rough day so far.
    Diane was trying to call Elaine to tell her we were still on our way, but would be arriving a bit late.
    We would arrive later than any of us realized because we missed a turn and ended up at the Airport.
    I was not happy with trying to drive a large vehicle past all the gates with their confusing traffic of taxis, cars, buses, and people with suitcases but we managed it. We got back on the right path to the Cracker Barrel.
    A good coach moment: Having a place to sleep after a good meal at the end of a very rough day.
    Elaine was waiting in the parking lot. She visited our coach for awhile. We retold the story of our stay in the mud, and gave her our account of the mad driver.
    "Well, it seems you have had a rough day today."
    My whole family practices the art of understatement.
    Joel summed the day up best.
    "We are here now, lets eat!"
    We did. We walked in to the restaurant, had a good meal, told some funny stories. Elaine told us about the things going on in her life.
    It was good moment but it was also late. I was exhausted so I told Diane that I was not up to the drive home.
    We already knew that the area had no campgrounds close by so she made a great suggestion.
    "I bet they will let us stay here."
    We asked the manager if we could spend the night. He agreed. So we left, said good bye to Elaine, and went back to the coach. We moved it to the far end of the parking lot. I put out the slides over the curb side. I started the genny so we could unwind with a movie. It was not long after it ended that we were all in bed.
    I hoped I wouldn't have crazy dreams about mud holes and trunk monkeys.
    I was so beat that even the planes flying directly over head couldn't keep me awake.
    I didn't dream at all.
  23. -Gramps-
    We have all had them, moments when we are so overjoyed to be motorhome owners and those other moments, the ones where you take a deep breath and ask yourself: "Why did I ever buy this big blasted thing?"
    Stuck!
    A few years ago, when Diane and I were still Bounder owners, we spent Christmas with my parents and my daughter Christine's family. We took the rig down to their home in Lexington, N.C., and parked it in their backyard. It was not a bad place to camp. Dad provided power and water and he told us we could dump our gray tank down the side of the hill that we were parked on.
    We had room to set up our patio, and a nice lighted path through the woods led up to the house. Behind us was a shuffleboard court. It was a fun holiday. I roasted a turkey, we played games and other members of our extended family showed up to see the coach and join in the festivities.
    The first couple of days the weather was a bit chilly, then on Christmas Eve it warmed up and started to rain hard. It poured all night and most of the next day. The day after Christmas, our last day, it was nice again, not warm but comfortable. We played a lot of shuffleboard, ate leftovers and enjoyed ourselves a lot. That night Diane and I started packing up the rig to leave the next morning.
    The morning of our departure it was really warm. It hit the seventies in the sun and everyone was outside to say goodbye to us. I had to back the rig down the driveway past the shuffleboard court to a downhill point off Dad's driveway where I would then pull forward and make a right turn to exit. So with Diane guiding me I backed up, but a bit too far to the left and backed off the road onto the spot where my Dad's vegetable garden used to be.
    Now, before I started to back up Dad warned me I needed to keep to the right, close to his grape arbor so that when I left the driveway I would be on hard ground rather than on top of his old garden, which was now a lot of mud. While backing up I heard his grape vine scraping along the side of the coach. Worried about a damaged gel coat, I eased over to the left, which turned out to be a big mistake.
    The passenger side of the coach missed hard ground; the driver's side was on rock. The passenger side started to sink; the driver's side didn't.
    My heart dropped to my shoes as the coach listed to starboard. I jumped up from my seat and tried to go out the door. My steps wouldn't open because the ground was in the way.
    Dad was standing on his driveway, that place I longed to be, just looking at my muddy predicament.
    "I guess you didn't hear me tell you that you were too far to the left?"
    "No, all I could hear was your vines dragging down the side of the coach!" I said with some emphasis. "Now what do we do? It looks like it's about to roll over!"
    "We can get it out," Dad said. "I'll be right back."
    He took off at a fast walk for his workshop. Diane, Mom and I just stood there looking at my mud-covered coach, the steps stuck open. I was thinking very big expensive tow truck, if one would even come out this far, and I doubted that would help anyway.
    "A tow truck can't pull it out of that hole," Dad said.
    He was standing there with an armload of boards while reading my thoughts.
    "Here's what we are going to do," he said. "We put some boards under the jacks, lift the coach and then dig the mud out under the wheels and put boards down. One rear wheel is on rock so we should be able to move it, once we get it upright."
    We gave it a gallant effort. The jacks lifted the rig, we dug and put down boards, but as soon as we raised the jacks the coach pushed the boards back into the mud and couldn't make it out.
    Now I was starting to panic.
    "Don't panic." This time it was Diane reading my thoughts.
    "I'm not panicking," I lied. "I just don't know what we are going to do."
    "Yes, you are. Just take a deep breath. We will figure out something."
    I think this is the point where I took a deep breath and asked myself, "Why did I buy this big blasted thing"
    We all know the answer to that: Because I wanted to.
    I heard Dad talking on his cell. He hung up.
    "Well, I just talked to Marion and he is sending help."
    Marion was my cousin who owned a construction company in the area. He said he would be over and not to worry because if he couldn't get it out no one could.
    That didn't make me stop worrying.
    While waiting for Marion and his solution, whatever that was, we leveled the coach again. Just as we finished I heard a loud vehicle coming down the driveway from the road. Marion was heading our way with a bulldozer.
    He told me his plan of attack. I told everyone that I only wanted directions relayed from Diane, because I knew everyone would want to help and I was scared and confused enough already.
    I got in the coach and pulled up the jacks. Marion, with a chain connected under the coach and attached to the dozer, yelled, "Ready!" and started to back up. He dragged the coach until the front wheels were on solid ground and then yelled "Hit it!"
    I punched the gas pedal and with the roar of the motor and mud flying everywhere, and to the sound of cheers from my family, she came loose. Up on the driveway she went.
    A good motorcoach moment: Coming out of the mud.
  24. -Gramps-

    The Richmond RV Expo

    By -Gramps-,

    I have two installments of Eighteen Months to write, but I need a break from it. I feel the need to post something about Motor Coaching.
    Our coach is still stuck in the driveway. Not literally, but figuratively. Weather and time constraints have conspired together to keep it parked right where it is for some two months now without moving an inch. Boy, do I have the itch to (notice the word inch and itch are very close) to get away.
    With the idea that going somewhere is better than nowhere and looking at motorhomes at a show may be better than just staring at ours through the window, we decided to make a day trip to Richmond, Virginia. We made a visit to the 25th annual Richmond Camping and RV Expo at the Richmond Speedway.
    We left around 10 a.m. this past Saturday for our 90-minute drive up north. Just before we finished breakfast it started snowing, again. We spent a few minutes browsing the weather reports online just to make sure we would not get caught in some weather we could not get away from. The reports all said this was just a short snow shower, so we took off with our supply of water, energy bars and dollar-off admission coupons.
    We arrived just at 11:30. We drove through the gate and found ourselves in the Vendors area close to the main entrance. The vendors parking lot was nowhere near full, so based on the number of vehicles around us, I had no real idea if this show would be all that busy.
    We walked through the cold to the ticket booth, paid our sixteen bucks (including our dollar off each) passed through the glass doors, showed our tickets and had the back of our hands stamped with the word FUN in blue ink.
    There were quite a few people there. The main entrance was crowded with people around a tall counter. They were filling out some kind of sweepstakes coupon, the winning prize being twenty five grand, and the consolation prize being a call from a time share organization. I declined to enter the drawing.
    I was more interested in exploring a couple of class A coaches. One was a new small Class A made by Winnebago. The Itasca Reyo (or the Winnie Via) is a 25-foot-long class A with one slide out that due to its size and floor plan feels more like a Class C than an A. The coach we visited was the 25T model. It has twin beds in the back that can be converted to a queen. There is also a queen bed over the cab. The cockpit area, which has a class A view, is lower than the rest of the coach but the chairs can be rotated and raised 6 inches so they become a part of the living area. Good thing too, because there is only one small couch/dinette that serves as seating. Diane and I both agreed that the Reyo appeared to be a well built coach, with a yacht like interior, functional and attractive at the same time. However, it's tight and lacking in storage that she and I are very used to.
    The Reyo is built on the Dodge Sprinter Chassis, normally a C chassis. It is powered by a 154-hp five speed Mercedes diesel which I suspect adds twenty thousand to the overall price.
    The Reyo had a show price tag of 119,000, just a few thousand less than the sale price of my 39-foot rig.
    Parked next to the Reyo was an Itasca Sunstar, an entry level class A, with a one piece windshield and traditional interior styling. It had the fit and finish, with muted colors, and the pleasant interior that Winnebago is known for. I did notice that the basement doors were not the full size flush fit doors, but were the old style hatch covers. That is not a look that I care for all that much.
    Also on display was an Encounter 30SA. The Encounter is Fleetwood's new entry level Class A coach. The Encounter replaces the old Fleetwood Flair. I don't know how Fleetwood manages so many models with multiple floor plans each; then again I don't know how Winnebago does either.
    The Encounter 30SA appears to be a comfortable coach. The coach body was standard, no full body paint, and like the Sunstar, the retro look basement doors. It is what Diane calls a side isle coach with the bed, bath and kitchen all on the curb side of the coach. The dinette and the fridge are in the main slide out on the road side. We would have given this coach a lot of consideration when we first shopped for one, if it had been available then. It had a show price tag of 88,000 which I considered a very good price. I heard more than one visitor to the coach saying they thought it would sell quickly at that price.
    Across from the Encounter was a Tiffin Allegro Open Road, a Four Winds Hurricane and a Tiffin Phaeton. The Hurricane is a nice coach. A bit plain on the outside but pleasant on the inside. Nice big dining booth, pull out bar, a comfortable coach. The Phaeton was the highest end coach at a show obviously geared to mostly entry level rvers and as a result the coach was crowded with curious lookers, not shoppers. It was a nice coach, no doubt about that, good looking woodworking, wonderful choice of fabrics and colors, great lighting (and that is important to me) and with four slide outs, plenty of room. The only thing that left a bad impression was a bit of wood framing on the ceiling. It really didn't add to the overall look of the interior.
    I finally made my way out of the Phaeton and visited the Allegro Open Road. Maybe I should have visited them in reverse. I was not overwhelmed by the Open Road. It is a good entry level coach, particularly for families with kids. It has a bunk bed option and with most of the floor space covered in vinyl, dirt and water being tracked into the coach is not a big problem. I think a bit more ambient lighting and a few more mirrors or pictures would warm it up a bit. This coach was built on a Ford Chassis.
    We took a look into a couple of Born Free Class Cs. Nice rigs but a bit pricey.
    That brings up an observation. There were not a lot of Class As at this show. The majority of the Class A coaches on display were in the 30 to 34 ft range. As I mentioned the Tiffin Phaeton was the highest end new coach there. Camping World had a couple of used late model Monacos on display, a Knight and a Diplomat.
    There was also one new Meridian parked outside the main entrance. All the gas class As except one were built on the Ford Chassis. The one exception was a Damon Challanger (nice coach with comfortable interior) built on a Workhorse chassis and that coach had a sold sign on it.
    There were a lot of sold signs on trailers. More than I remembered seeing last year. I took the opportunity to chat with one exhibitor and he informed me that the show was one of the hardest to stage, due to the snowy weather, but it was a very busy show with many serious shoppers. He said sales were much better than last year, not only at the show but for the year as well.
    I gathered from him and from others I spoke to, that the RV market was showing signs of recovery. The RV industry may be recovering, but it has also changed. The dealers were not pushing large coaches. The show was packed with trailers. The show gave the strong impression that the dealers believe the RV market now wants smaller, less expensive, kid friendly RVs be they trailers or coaches.
    We visited the vendor area, chatted with some campground and resort folks, and then grabbed an overpriced lunch before visiting the second building. We caught the shuttle bus, and found out it would have quicker to walk. This building belonged to one dealer exhibiting Forest River, Four Winds, Damon and Winnebago products. It was packed with trailers and there were about 25 coaches, equally divided between As and Cs with a couple of fancy Bs.
    We visited two or three Damon Challengers. All were pretty basic coaches, not bad.
    We left the show around 3 p.m. and made our way home. We stopped at Outdoor World in Hampton just to see if anything was on sale and then we visited BJ's wholesale nextdoor.
    By the time we arrived back home, we were beat. The rest of the evening was devoted to Pizza and the Olympics, although I think I have seen all the snow I care to look at.
  25. -Gramps-

    Restless

    By -Gramps-,

    I suspect that many readers of this here blog of mine (notice my use of a bit of Southern Speak) wonder what most of my last few entries have to do with motor coaching. My initial response is: not much.
    However, there might be a connection.
    I have a restless nature. I can't sit still for long periods of time doing nothing. I have to be reading, writing, watching something very interesting, and usually commercial free, on the LCD. I might play a World War II FPS online. For you non computer gamers, a FPS is a First Person Shooter. My restless nature may have been a large contributing factor that helped produce the mindset that led me to become a citizen of the RV community. I have always thought about places that I have not been to and places that I want to return to. I think about places that are anywhere except where I am at the moment. That has to be one of the reasons I bought a Motor Coach. What does a MOTOR coach do? It takes you to other places. My restless nature also contributed to the purchase of my motor coach lot. I love where it's located, near the Blue Ridge Parkway. The Parkway is a road. What do roads do? They lead you to other places. I can take the coach down that road or some other road at a moments notice.
    Well sometimes I can do that. The reality is that I am still constrained by time, money and business responsibilities. But those things don't stop me from dreaming and planning and hoping.
    As I said, I have a restless nature. I am sure that I inherited it. My mother and father were the youngest of seven and six siblings respectively. My Mom was the only one of her family to move away. My Dad was one of two. Every other sibling stayed very close to the place where they were born. There is nothing wrong with that. I am still living just across the water from the city I was raised in. I am presently living in the city I was born in. There was a time I couldn't wait to get away from here and leave my parents behind. I did just that and then I moved back, close to my parent's home, but not too close. Then sometime later, my parents became somewhat restless living here so they moved away, back to where they came from and left me behind. They live in Lexington NC just north of Denton.
    Dad did manage to see a lot of the world long before they settled down here and then again in their cabin in the woods. My Mom saw some of it with him. The part she saw was inside the borders of this country; however she could not allow herself to travel with Dad overseas. The pull of family, and those country roads, was always too strong. The ties to Denton just would not stretch to Sicily or Manila or Barcelona.
    I wonder to this day what my life would be like if part of my childhood had been adventurously spent in Italy or somewhere. I wonder even more when I think about the places I have traveled to and the people I met there. Yes, I have had some opportunities to feed my restless adventure craving nature.
    I have been around the world in ten days. Diane and I have been on numerous cruises to many islands surrounded by a Caribbean blue sea. I have been to the west coast many times. Many years ago I met Danny Thomas, Ephram Zimablest Jr, Francis Ford Coppola. Many years ago I was friends with Kathy Lee Gifford before she became Kathy Lee Gifford. I used to work for Ted Turner before he became rich and famous. Diane and I worked for Jim and Tammy Bakker back when they first started and traveled with them over most of the Eastern half of the United States. I worked for Pat Robertson as a roaming news videographer. I have installed phone systems on merchant vessels in the Pacific, the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic. I have taken weapons classes just in case the ship I was on was attacked by pirates. Diane and I have been camping in our first coach during a terrible Cape Hatteras nor'easter. I have seen fall colors while driving the coach around Grandfather Mountain that are so gorgeous it made me want to shout. We have been to some great coach rallies. I have been to Disney World multiple times. I felt like a kid, and loved every minute of it. I have been awed by the Grand Canyon.
    All of these experiences, friendships and encounters now seem short and sweet.
    What it boils down to is that my restless nature, at times being transported by plane and now by coach, has driven me to collect a lifetime of experiences that constantly fly through my mind.
    When I am sitting in front of my computer and mulling all these memories I look out the window at my coach, and ask myself the same questions.
    The First question gets overridden by all the following ones.
    First One, how do I keep paying for that thing?
    The following ones: Where is that thing going to take me to next and who am I going to meet when I get there? When is the next time our coach is going to add to my collection of dreams, hopes and memories?
    I always hope it is soon.
    I think you might be starting to understand why I write so much about my past. My past, your past, each has so much to do with who we are, what we believe, what we hope for, and what we will become.
    I sometimes want to retire now, retire from the phone game and become a full timer, free to go pretty much where my coach can take me. Once I get there, if it doesn't work out the way I thought it would or if I just feel like it is time to leave, then I may just pack up the rig and go.
    That is what I would like to do, but I also inherited a sense of responsibility from my parents as well. I have to look after my family until all members can look after themselves. I have to be settled and stable. What I want to do, when I can do it, and what I have to be now seems so far apart. I don't want to give up, but there are times I think the distance between responsible reality and my dreams is so great that it might drive me crazy.
    Do you understand what I am trying to say? Do you understand how your past pushes you to dream for something better only to find that it may be slipping away? You may have to let go of it because it is the responsible thing to do.
    I am quite sure that my Parents know exactly what I mean.
    How is that for a lead in to the rest of my story?
×
×
  • Create New...