One year ago today: August 19, 2017, starting on the bathroom.
Five years ago today: August 19, 2013, ah, the battery isn’t optional.
Nine years ago today: August 19, 2009, Faith Hill, “This Kiss”.
Random years ago today: August 19, 2012, classic batbike photo.
Here’s the camper rig in Tarpon Springs, Florida. I’m writing this from back at home. I cut the experimental drive short. Too many things went wrong and not enough little things went right. It was still a good time and I saw what I set out to see, but overall the trip was a disappointment. I’ll relate the events and let you get the rest from context. The new camper has a higher center of gravity and so it is indeed lively to tow. However, out on the road this kept weakening and disconnecting my wiring.
This means the interior fan won’t last all night. I can usually sleep right through unless something wakes me. And you would be amazed at the incredible amount of noise that happens in a Wal*Mart parking lot starting around 3:30AM. I don’t just pull into a spot, I check the surroundings out earlier in the day. So I find a spot away from the pickup window, away from the 24 hour entrance, away from the delivery bay, away from the employee parking and as far back in one corner has I can.
[Author’s note: the camper in this picture seems diminutive next to the station wagon, but it is full size, and more than comfortable to stretch out in. Once again, I will revert to the tried and true two-battery system. A heavy duty marine battery to run the overnight fan and another for all the chargers, radio, electronics, and so on.]
Anyway, this morning some pinhead walked that distance to stand beside my camper, the only vehicle in the entire NW corner of the plaza, and have a five-minute dry coughing fit. And the guy that drives the cart that vacuums the lot made sure to circle my camper three times just to make sure I was awake. How about the shopping cart boy. He can’t push them back in one string like every other loser, he has to drag them past one by one every minute for a half-hour. By now, I’m wide awake in the 88°F heat and 96% humidity, no way to fall back asleep with that fan battery stone dead. I got up and sat in the car with the A/C on. The day had not started yet.
Later, I sought to avoid the usual summer afternoon rain shower by taking in a movie. Here’s the camper by the Regal Cinemas in Hudson, Florida. See the impending cloud cover, but every movie I wanted to see had either started or meant an hour wait. Unless you want to spend like $12 on something crappy like the Ant-man or Blackkklansman or that nonsense. FYI, millennial marketing has destroyed the concept of the cheap afternoon matinee. At Regal, discount coupons of most any kind are only valid Monday thru Thursdays. It’s simple, millennials lack the brain-thrust to invent anything new. They are the third American generation to have this defect, so they have to skin what’s left over. Azz-clowns. More about millennials follows.
Then, I drove to the coast for a look at Bayport. As usual, I drove to the far end of the parking lot and parked over two spaces to pull out later without backing up. I walked the beach walk and ten minutes later as I’m returning to the car, I see these two geeks pull up and block my car. In an otherwise empty lot. They got in their car and started it, I thought they realized what they’d done and were going to pull away. Nope, the just sat there, no talking, just staring at me. I got in my car and moved toward them, they got that stupid horrified look on their faces, like what is this guy trying to do.
It was about this time I noticed my excellent videos of the trip had been overwritten by this dashcam. That, despite the fact I had locked the files. One day I’ll break down and buy a decent camcorder, but you’d have to show me one first. Every brand I tried has some serious shortcoming, so the fact is, most of the excellent photography you find in these posts is taken on the cheapest equipment I can find that works. Kind of like the way NASA and Sony operate.
Canary Island vineyard.
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The destination this trip was Tarpon Springs. There’s a guitar player who has been advertising for years out there, but he’ll never amount to much with his demanding nature. He also thinks he is so good somebody will drive 84 miles to practice. Anyway, I had looked at prices in that town and finally wanted to see it. It’s a tourist trap with no free parking near the beach, just locals out on their lawn chairs charging $15 for “all day”. It’s a rip-off, because they are not part of the attraction, which is a harbor front mall centered on the now defunct sponge-fishing industry. No laugh, in the 1920s before A/C was invented, that was Florida’s biggest industry.
I had to trespass on some community hall to find a space big enough to turn around and get out of there. By now it was hot as hell and I stopped at an ice cream store for a scoop of maple walnut. That’s where I found the strangest but neatest gumball machine I’d ever seen. Instead of just dispensing your gum, it rolls onto a little paddle where you try to toss it through a basketball hoop. See photo. After a few tries, I discover they are not gumballs, but rubber. I tried to drive around for a look, but every time somebody was riding my ass, like I was going to speed with a camper because they were late for soccer practice.
Here’s some still from the gumball machine video. These panels are in live sequence, meaning first I’m shooting for a basket, then discovering to my horrific disappointment these are not bubble gum. As you see, it took me some quarters to get a basket. Hey, we don’t edit out failures in this blog. Besides, I play bass, not basketball. This chewing gum tastes like rubber. (I dunno, is that old joke still making the rounds? You know, where somebody writes that on the condom machine, “Don’t waste your money, this gum tastes like . . .”.)
Next, I parked downtown and went walking. I bought a book, had coffee, and thought I met a lady. She was on the sidewalk, looking in a shop window and we struck up a conversation. When will I learn? She pretended to be interested in what I said, but you know how old ladies sometimes get to that because nothing else they can do even works. It was a fake, when I asked her to join me, she invited me into the shop. The window-shopping was a ruse. I handed her some rubber balls and said give these to your grandchildren, and walked away.
Other things I would have visited if they were open were the church thrift stores, the art museum, the playhouse theater (in Hudson), and I would have rented a bicycle. Instead, as the day went on, I began feeling less like spending a potential second night without a fan and something I have not experienced for years—a longing to be home. You see, what did I tell you? That’s what happens when I get comfortable. I had a third coffee break and downloaded some music, poked at y’day’s blog, and twice missed the trolley bus. If I’d caught it, I would have rode to the sponge fishing dockside place.
Then decided it was home time. Back through Zephyrhills, getting lost once for 15 miles, to a blinding rainstorm as I pulled into north Lakeland, so bad I parked and waited it out. There was no storm warning on the weather network, so it was indeed a freak summer storm, with gale force winds. And it Florida, that isn’t just gusting, they are sustained and will rock your car. I pulled into my driveway just before dark and left the rig there. I’ll get it in the morning. By now I want nothing more than to curl up with a book. In all, this was not the most enjoyable trip, but it was required to iron out potential problems. And another thing, my campers were solid wood, this one is framed and has no soundproofing qualities.
It was a worthwhile and valuable trip, since the camper is destined for longer journeys. This was a shakedown cruise and I see the unit needs work. First thing I did was remove the old leveling system that was held in with clamps. Trust me, that would not have lasted ten miles on the road. I see also that my trailer hitch itself has a looser fit than the same arrangement on the motorcycle tow bar. Hence it rattles more on uneven pavement, which can get annoying in most of Florida. And it was a racket and a half when I tried to drive over some cobblestones in Tarpon Springs. Think in terms of another $150 or so into the camper, and on top of that, I’ll need a car radio, the older the better. Yes, the old pushbutton type, with tubes if I can find it, and a retractable antenna.
Did I mention I scored some excellent Panasonic speakers at the Thrift? Where the gal who could have had me anytime that first day complimented me on the weight I’ve lost. Next time, I’ll let her have a free squeeze to prove it is also firm. (There are two gals at the Thrift, don’t mix them up. The owner had one chance, she didn’t take it. The redhead with the blue eyes has no time limit, at least not until she hits 35 or puffs out, like most of them do. When you’re not looking.)
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