“Oh honey, when we stop tonight lets build a big campfire and have a weenie roast. We can bake some potatoes in the hot ashes and roast some marshmallows too.”
We pulled into the Bear Trap camp ground and as I registered I noticed bundles of firewood stacked in the office. The sign said “Firewood 3.00 per bundle”
“Say pal, is there any place around here that I can get my own firewood”?
“Sure is mister. Just go out the road in the back of the campground and you can gather all you want for free.”
I thanked him and after the van was set up I got the ax our from under the “stuff” in the back of the tracker. Now it should be understood that I actually found this ax. The handle is split and held together by black tape. The head on the ax is loose but I have driven a couple of nails in it and bent then over to help hold it on. The ax is pretty dull but it works well for driving things in the ground. I dropped the ax in the passengers seat and headed out toward the back of the campground. The road went from the campground over a hill and down onto the side of a mountain. I eased along looking for a tree. I spotted one up an embankment that was perfect. It was dead and very close to the edge of the top of the embankment. I retrieved my trusty ax and climbed the embankment. This will be easy I said to myself. I gave the rotten tree a kick and two of the limbs fell from the top of the tree. I took my trusty ax and gave the old tree a good whack.
At this point it should be understood that because some of the limbs on a tree are rotten, the rest of the tree might not be rotten. Sometimes the tree is simply dried out and turns to the consistency of high carbon steel.
The ax simply went into the trunk of the tree about half an inch and stuck fast. After some twisting and wiggling I got the ax unstuck. I changed my stance and with great determination, delivered a Paul Bunion swing with the ax.
Things started happening in a sort of a “slow motion” , “rapid succession” situation.
First…… my right foot slipped over the edge of the ten foot embankment.
Second as my foot slid over the embankment, I lost my balance and my point of aim with the ax.
Third upon “loosing my point of aim” with the ax and due to the velocity I had swung the ax, I was unable to “stop” the ax midswing.
Fourth the ax handle hit the tree about one inch below the ax head. The handle broke clean leaving the ax head flying thru space like a rocket.. The ax head skipped across the top of the tracker cutting a slice about four inches long in the cloth top. I completely lost my balance and tumbled down the ten foot embankment to a large puddle at the bottom. I still had the ax handle in my hand. A few more rotten limbs rained down on me as I wallowed in the puddle using the broken ax handle for a crutch. I regained my feet and realized that I had lost the keys to the tracker. I searched the embankment and the edge of the road. Using my fingers I sifted the mud and after about thirty minutes of “sifting mud” I flopped in the seat of the tracker for a rest. The keys were still in the ignition switch.
I returned to the van with a few rotten limbs and an ax handle for firewood. Willa was setting at the kitchen table watching French television and eating a bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich.
“I figured you were never coming back so I fixed me something to eat”. “you look like you have been wrestling a pig, and you lost”. “I’ll get you some clean clothes and a bucket of water because the showers are closed by now”. “I am going to go to bed to read, you can fix your own supper”.
I had a can of cold beans and went to sleep on the sofa again.
THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES
Friday, December 26, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
FISHIN ON THE ALCAN
SEAJAY AND Willa THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES
Since fishing is a big part of my life and its one of the reasons I wanted to go to Canada and Alaska, I made it a point to stop at camp grounds that advertised fishing in their lakes or ponds.
“Did that campground advertise fishing”?
“I think the sign said they had a private pond”.
“If it does, are you ready to stop for the night. I sure would like to do some fishing”.
It was getting over in the evening when we pulled in a “The Shade Tree” campground. I parked the van and went into the combination office, grocery store, drug store, filling station, post office and garage.
“You got any campsites”?
“ Got one left, fifteen bucks, Canadian”.
“The sign says you got a fish pond. Any fish in it”?
“Yep, I stocked it this past spring. Just release what you catch”.
I handed the guy fifteen dollars and registered. We pulled around back and discovered that the one remaining campsite was between the dumpster and the outhouse. It was wider than the van, but just a little. I eased the van back and went into a hole about two feet deep.
“I’ll level the van later. I want to go fishin’ while its still light outside”.
“You gonna set up the dish so I can watch Wheel of Fortune”?
“Willa, I don’t have time. I want to get to the fishing lake before it gets too late. The guy said that he had stocked it with trout and I ain’t done no fishin on this whole trip and here is a good spot because it’s a stocked pond”.
“What about the wheels in the hole? The van is so unlevel that I cant keep the pans on the stove to cook supper”.
“I’ll level the van when I get back. I’m goin fishin”.
Willa was not real happy about this but she didn’t say anything.
I grabbed a fishing rod from the back of the van and picked up a box of tackle and started following the sign that said “FISH POND”. It came as a surprise that the fish pond was in the middle of a large meadow with several cows inside a barb wire fence. I climbed over the fence and ripped the knee out of my jeans. I started walking across the meadow and the cows started following me. I guess they thought I was there to feed them. While watching the cows following me I stepped in to a nice fresh cow pie. My foot went up to the ankle and my sneaker immediately turned a dark shade of “cow poo”. Undaunted, I proceeded toward what I assumed was a pond. I arrived at the edge of the pond after fighting my way thru chest high weeds and cat tails.
The “pond” was about as big as a small swimming pool and it looked like it may be three feet deep in the middle. There were some trees on the far side of the pond. I got out a lure and tied it on the line while three cows watched. I got tangled in the weeds twice trying to cast the lure and on the third try I succeeded in casting all the way across the “pond” and tangling the lure in a tree. Frustration overcame me and I gave the lure a mighty heave. I succeeded in breaking the rod and the line and dislodged a big hornets nest. It’s amazing how hornets seem to know just where the person is that has demolished their home and somewhere between ten and twenty thousand hornets sought revenge upon me. In my retreat I managed to step in another “cow pie” with my “still clean” sneaker. I abandoned the broken rod and the tackle box and beat a hasty retreat back toward the camper. I had forgotten about the barb wire fence. I must have hit the fence doing about forty miles per hour. My body wrapped around the top strand and I ripped my shirt as I tumbled over the fence. The cows watched the whole procedure with great interest.
Ragged and bleeding, I made my way back to the van. I had ripped my pants, torn my shirt, scratched my belly, broke one of the best graphite rods I ever owned and had lost a whole tackle box full of lures. My sneakers were the color of cow poop and smelled like a pasture and I had missed supper.
“Well great fisherman, where are the fish”?
I ignored the question.
“Have you been wading in cow poop”?
I ignored the question.
“I guess you know that you have missed supper and I have missed my Wheel of Fortune”.
“Quit makin stupid comments and get me a bucket of water and some more clothes”.
I really should not have said that. The change of clothes was tossed out the door along with a clean pair of sneakers. She simply set the bucket of water on the step and slammed the door.
I went to the outhouse and washed off. I put on the clean clothes and went back to the van to find Willa had already gone to bed and there was a can of cold beans on the table with a spoon beside it. I watched a little French television and slept on the couch
Since fishing is a big part of my life and its one of the reasons I wanted to go to Canada and Alaska, I made it a point to stop at camp grounds that advertised fishing in their lakes or ponds.
“Did that campground advertise fishing”?
“I think the sign said they had a private pond”.
“If it does, are you ready to stop for the night. I sure would like to do some fishing”.
It was getting over in the evening when we pulled in a “The Shade Tree” campground. I parked the van and went into the combination office, grocery store, drug store, filling station, post office and garage.
“You got any campsites”?
“ Got one left, fifteen bucks, Canadian”.
“The sign says you got a fish pond. Any fish in it”?
“Yep, I stocked it this past spring. Just release what you catch”.
I handed the guy fifteen dollars and registered. We pulled around back and discovered that the one remaining campsite was between the dumpster and the outhouse. It was wider than the van, but just a little. I eased the van back and went into a hole about two feet deep.
“I’ll level the van later. I want to go fishin’ while its still light outside”.
“You gonna set up the dish so I can watch Wheel of Fortune”?
“Willa, I don’t have time. I want to get to the fishing lake before it gets too late. The guy said that he had stocked it with trout and I ain’t done no fishin on this whole trip and here is a good spot because it’s a stocked pond”.
“What about the wheels in the hole? The van is so unlevel that I cant keep the pans on the stove to cook supper”.
“I’ll level the van when I get back. I’m goin fishin”.
Willa was not real happy about this but she didn’t say anything.
I grabbed a fishing rod from the back of the van and picked up a box of tackle and started following the sign that said “FISH POND”. It came as a surprise that the fish pond was in the middle of a large meadow with several cows inside a barb wire fence. I climbed over the fence and ripped the knee out of my jeans. I started walking across the meadow and the cows started following me. I guess they thought I was there to feed them. While watching the cows following me I stepped in to a nice fresh cow pie. My foot went up to the ankle and my sneaker immediately turned a dark shade of “cow poo”. Undaunted, I proceeded toward what I assumed was a pond. I arrived at the edge of the pond after fighting my way thru chest high weeds and cat tails.
The “pond” was about as big as a small swimming pool and it looked like it may be three feet deep in the middle. There were some trees on the far side of the pond. I got out a lure and tied it on the line while three cows watched. I got tangled in the weeds twice trying to cast the lure and on the third try I succeeded in casting all the way across the “pond” and tangling the lure in a tree. Frustration overcame me and I gave the lure a mighty heave. I succeeded in breaking the rod and the line and dislodged a big hornets nest. It’s amazing how hornets seem to know just where the person is that has demolished their home and somewhere between ten and twenty thousand hornets sought revenge upon me. In my retreat I managed to step in another “cow pie” with my “still clean” sneaker. I abandoned the broken rod and the tackle box and beat a hasty retreat back toward the camper. I had forgotten about the barb wire fence. I must have hit the fence doing about forty miles per hour. My body wrapped around the top strand and I ripped my shirt as I tumbled over the fence. The cows watched the whole procedure with great interest.
Ragged and bleeding, I made my way back to the van. I had ripped my pants, torn my shirt, scratched my belly, broke one of the best graphite rods I ever owned and had lost a whole tackle box full of lures. My sneakers were the color of cow poop and smelled like a pasture and I had missed supper.
“Well great fisherman, where are the fish”?
I ignored the question.
“Have you been wading in cow poop”?
I ignored the question.
“I guess you know that you have missed supper and I have missed my Wheel of Fortune”.
“Quit makin stupid comments and get me a bucket of water and some more clothes”.
I really should not have said that. The change of clothes was tossed out the door along with a clean pair of sneakers. She simply set the bucket of water on the step and slammed the door.
I went to the outhouse and washed off. I put on the clean clothes and went back to the van to find Willa had already gone to bed and there was a can of cold beans on the table with a spoon beside it. I watched a little French television and slept on the couch
first cookout on the alaska highway
THE TRAVEL ODYSSEY OF SEAJAY AND WILLA
THIS IS A FIRST PERSON NARRATIVE OF THE TRIALS, TRIBULATIONS AND THE FUN OF MOTOR HOMING IN A THIRTY THREE FOOT PACE ARROW WITH TWO DOGS AND TWO SLIDES AND ONE WIFE.
The first cook out on the Alaska Highway
Lets have a cook out tonight. We can get the grill out and cook some steaks. I will make some baked potatoes in the oven and we can have a nice meal out of doors on the picnic table.
Wonderful idea. We stopped for the nite and set up camp. The camp sight was the last one available and it was on a hill. I mean a real hill. It took all the blocks I had to get the front of the van up to level. When you jack up the front of the van you raise the steps at the door also. Our steps were at least eighteen inches from the ground to the bottom step. I warned Willa about this and made a mental note of the same. I slid a picnic table over to the side of the van and finally found enough flat rocks to get one end of the table level. I unrolled the awning and got out the grill. Willa went inside and started preparations for everything as I hooked the hose to the propane tank under the van. I checked the bad place in the hose that I had repaired a few years ago. It seemed fine because I put some spit on the tape over the break to check for leaks. No leaks. As I went to set up the grill I noticed that the round plastic control handle on the front of the regulator was cracked. I assumed it had slid around in the compartment and smashed against the wall. It was made of plastic and it had numbers on it so you could regulate the gas supply and regulate the heat of the grill. I sat the grill on the table and reached for my match. I lit the match and stuck it thru the bottom hole in the grill and turned the plastic knob to start the gas to the grill. When I turned the knob it split in half and fell on the table. Hummmmmmmmmm ……. I reached in my tool compartment and found my long nose vise grips. There was a small stem sticking out where the plastic handle had been attached so I clicked the vise grips on stem and turned it. The grill lit almost instantly. I decided it was the best idea to leave the vise grips on the little stem so I could regulate the fire in the grill. The greatest problem was that the weight of the vise grips kept turning the grill up too high. To resolve this I found a small sardine can and put it under the handle of the vise grips and that solved the problem. Willa had marinated the steaks and they were ready for the grill so I stepped to the door to get the meat for the fire. As I stepped for the door I got my foot tangled in the gas hose and I accidentally jerked the grill sideways on the picnic table. In doing so the left back leg got caught in the crack between the boards on the picnic table. This broke the leg off flush with the bottom of the grill. It also disturbed the vice grips and they flipped over and fell on the ground under the table. Fire shot out of the top of the grill because it was now turned wide open. To my amazement the broken plastic knob was also the limiter concerning the amount of gas going to the grill. Without the plastic knob you could turn the grill up very high. Much higher than intended. I squatted down and crawled under the table looking for the vise grips. In doing so I put my knee in a pile of dog poop someone had not cleaned up. I said ‘’shux’’ .I found the vise grips, crawled out from under the table, locked the vise grips on the stem and turned the gas back down. Now the grill would rock on the three legs that were still attached to the grill. I looked around and found a small Van Camps Pork and Bean can that was almost the perfect height to go under the back of the grill to replace the broken off leg. I adjusted the fire again and slid my sardine can under the handle of the vise grips. Everything was fine. I got the steaks from Willa and put on the grill to cook. I lowered the lid to speed the cooking. When I lowered the lid I noticed it was sitting kinda off center of the grill. I looked at the back of the grill and noticed one of the hinges on the top of the grill was cracked and just dangling. I found a piece of barbwire and twisted it around the broken hinge. This seemed to fix the lid but when you opened the lid instead of stopping in the vertical position like it should, it flopped all the way down on the table. I found a piece of a stump to lean the grill lid against when I wanted to leave it open. I was very careful with this since we wanted steaks and this was the only grill we had. I eased the steaks on the grill and carefully closed the lid. It should be mentioned here that the handle on the lid has long been gone from the front of the lid. There is one quarter inch bolt with a string around it that is used for a handle to open the lid of the grill.
Ahhhhhhhhh the wonderful smell of steaks on an open fire. I decided that the steaks would cook better if I had a beer in one hand while I tended the steaks on the grill.
‘’Willa, would you bring me a beer please.’’
Things kinda went down hill from here on.
First….. As I reached for the door I stumbled on the high step. I fell sideways and bumped into the picnic table. This caused the table legs to slide off the rocks that I was using to level the table. In doing so things started happening in slow motion.
Two… When the picnic table legs dropped off piles of rocks the table slumped down and the grill slid sideways. In doing so the grill hopped off the Van Camp Pork and Bean can making the grill slump sideways causing the vise grips to fall off the sardine can. This caused the vise grips to fall and turn the gas wide open and fire shot out the sides of the grill. This also caused the vise grips to pop off the stem on the gas regulator valve. The vise grips fell back under the table again.
Three… In a panic I grabbed the string on the grill lid and yanked the lid open causing it to completely break off the grill. Fire shot up about three feet. Our steaks were turning to charcoal and my awning over the grill was turning brown from the heat from the flames. In a panic I tried to turn off the gas using my fingers. No way.
The awning was starting to get really hot and I knew I had to do something quick or we would be in real trouble. I grabbed my spatula and tossed the burning steaks out in the road. I grabbed the lid and set it back on the grill. This caused the flames to go sideways instead of straight up. I looked around for something to throw on the awning to keep it from catching fire. All I could find was a bottle of Worcester Sauce. I ripped off the cap and tried to fling the sauce on the now melting awning.
By some mericle Willa popped open the door with a beer in her hand she was bringing me. I grabbed it and cracked the tab and shook the can. It worked well in putting out the now scorching awning. When the beer stopped spurting out of the can I scrambled under the picnic table to find the vise grips. I put my other knee in the dog poop again. I got the vise grips on the regulator valve and turned off the gas
‘’What the heck are you doing out here?’’ ‘’Where are our steaks?’’ ‘’Are you trying to set the van on fire?’’ ‘’Why do you have dog poop on your clothes?’’ Willa asked.
My response was not what she wanted to hear and can not be printed here but I can assure you she was not pleased. She simply slammed the door in a huff.
‘’I’m fixing me a B.L.T. you can fend for yourself’’……..
I scraped all the dog poop I could off my jeans and put away my grill as best I could. I saved the cans so we could use the grill again in the future.
An hour later I went inside there was a can of cold beans and a spoon on the table. There was also a note explaining that she had gone to bed to read and did not want to be disturbed…………….
I ate the beans and watched some French television and slept on the sofa……..
The adventure continues …………….
THIS IS A FIRST PERSON NARRATIVE OF THE TRIALS, TRIBULATIONS AND THE FUN OF MOTOR HOMING IN A THIRTY THREE FOOT PACE ARROW WITH TWO DOGS AND TWO SLIDES AND ONE WIFE.
The first cook out on the Alaska Highway
Lets have a cook out tonight. We can get the grill out and cook some steaks. I will make some baked potatoes in the oven and we can have a nice meal out of doors on the picnic table.
Wonderful idea. We stopped for the nite and set up camp. The camp sight was the last one available and it was on a hill. I mean a real hill. It took all the blocks I had to get the front of the van up to level. When you jack up the front of the van you raise the steps at the door also. Our steps were at least eighteen inches from the ground to the bottom step. I warned Willa about this and made a mental note of the same. I slid a picnic table over to the side of the van and finally found enough flat rocks to get one end of the table level. I unrolled the awning and got out the grill. Willa went inside and started preparations for everything as I hooked the hose to the propane tank under the van. I checked the bad place in the hose that I had repaired a few years ago. It seemed fine because I put some spit on the tape over the break to check for leaks. No leaks. As I went to set up the grill I noticed that the round plastic control handle on the front of the regulator was cracked. I assumed it had slid around in the compartment and smashed against the wall. It was made of plastic and it had numbers on it so you could regulate the gas supply and regulate the heat of the grill. I sat the grill on the table and reached for my match. I lit the match and stuck it thru the bottom hole in the grill and turned the plastic knob to start the gas to the grill. When I turned the knob it split in half and fell on the table. Hummmmmmmmmm ……. I reached in my tool compartment and found my long nose vise grips. There was a small stem sticking out where the plastic handle had been attached so I clicked the vise grips on stem and turned it. The grill lit almost instantly. I decided it was the best idea to leave the vise grips on the little stem so I could regulate the fire in the grill. The greatest problem was that the weight of the vise grips kept turning the grill up too high. To resolve this I found a small sardine can and put it under the handle of the vise grips and that solved the problem. Willa had marinated the steaks and they were ready for the grill so I stepped to the door to get the meat for the fire. As I stepped for the door I got my foot tangled in the gas hose and I accidentally jerked the grill sideways on the picnic table. In doing so the left back leg got caught in the crack between the boards on the picnic table. This broke the leg off flush with the bottom of the grill. It also disturbed the vice grips and they flipped over and fell on the ground under the table. Fire shot out of the top of the grill because it was now turned wide open. To my amazement the broken plastic knob was also the limiter concerning the amount of gas going to the grill. Without the plastic knob you could turn the grill up very high. Much higher than intended. I squatted down and crawled under the table looking for the vise grips. In doing so I put my knee in a pile of dog poop someone had not cleaned up. I said ‘’shux’’ .I found the vise grips, crawled out from under the table, locked the vise grips on the stem and turned the gas back down. Now the grill would rock on the three legs that were still attached to the grill. I looked around and found a small Van Camps Pork and Bean can that was almost the perfect height to go under the back of the grill to replace the broken off leg. I adjusted the fire again and slid my sardine can under the handle of the vise grips. Everything was fine. I got the steaks from Willa and put on the grill to cook. I lowered the lid to speed the cooking. When I lowered the lid I noticed it was sitting kinda off center of the grill. I looked at the back of the grill and noticed one of the hinges on the top of the grill was cracked and just dangling. I found a piece of barbwire and twisted it around the broken hinge. This seemed to fix the lid but when you opened the lid instead of stopping in the vertical position like it should, it flopped all the way down on the table. I found a piece of a stump to lean the grill lid against when I wanted to leave it open. I was very careful with this since we wanted steaks and this was the only grill we had. I eased the steaks on the grill and carefully closed the lid. It should be mentioned here that the handle on the lid has long been gone from the front of the lid. There is one quarter inch bolt with a string around it that is used for a handle to open the lid of the grill.
Ahhhhhhhhh the wonderful smell of steaks on an open fire. I decided that the steaks would cook better if I had a beer in one hand while I tended the steaks on the grill.
‘’Willa, would you bring me a beer please.’’
Things kinda went down hill from here on.
First….. As I reached for the door I stumbled on the high step. I fell sideways and bumped into the picnic table. This caused the table legs to slide off the rocks that I was using to level the table. In doing so things started happening in slow motion.
Two… When the picnic table legs dropped off piles of rocks the table slumped down and the grill slid sideways. In doing so the grill hopped off the Van Camp Pork and Bean can making the grill slump sideways causing the vise grips to fall off the sardine can. This caused the vise grips to fall and turn the gas wide open and fire shot out the sides of the grill. This also caused the vise grips to pop off the stem on the gas regulator valve. The vise grips fell back under the table again.
Three… In a panic I grabbed the string on the grill lid and yanked the lid open causing it to completely break off the grill. Fire shot up about three feet. Our steaks were turning to charcoal and my awning over the grill was turning brown from the heat from the flames. In a panic I tried to turn off the gas using my fingers. No way.
The awning was starting to get really hot and I knew I had to do something quick or we would be in real trouble. I grabbed my spatula and tossed the burning steaks out in the road. I grabbed the lid and set it back on the grill. This caused the flames to go sideways instead of straight up. I looked around for something to throw on the awning to keep it from catching fire. All I could find was a bottle of Worcester Sauce. I ripped off the cap and tried to fling the sauce on the now melting awning.
By some mericle Willa popped open the door with a beer in her hand she was bringing me. I grabbed it and cracked the tab and shook the can. It worked well in putting out the now scorching awning. When the beer stopped spurting out of the can I scrambled under the picnic table to find the vise grips. I put my other knee in the dog poop again. I got the vise grips on the regulator valve and turned off the gas
‘’What the heck are you doing out here?’’ ‘’Where are our steaks?’’ ‘’Are you trying to set the van on fire?’’ ‘’Why do you have dog poop on your clothes?’’ Willa asked.
My response was not what she wanted to hear and can not be printed here but I can assure you she was not pleased. She simply slammed the door in a huff.
‘’I’m fixing me a B.L.T. you can fend for yourself’’……..
I scraped all the dog poop I could off my jeans and put away my grill as best I could. I saved the cans so we could use the grill again in the future.
An hour later I went inside there was a can of cold beans and a spoon on the table. There was also a note explaining that she had gone to bed to read and did not want to be disturbed…………….
I ate the beans and watched some French television and slept on the sofa……..
The adventure continues …………….
WILLAS POEM
This is a poem I wrote for Willa on our second anniversary
FOUR YEARS AGO IN WAL MART STORE I SAW A PRETTY LADY
SHE HAD BROWN EYES, A PRETTY SMILE
I WONDERED IF SHE'D TALK A WHILE.
I SMILED AT HER,
SHE SMILED AT ME
I LOOKED AWAY AND THEN
TURNED BACK TO HER AND GAVE A SMILE
SHE SMILED AT ME AGAIN
WE SAT AND TALKED 'ORE COFFEE COLD
BOUT HOW OUR LIVES HAD BEEN
I TOUCHED HER HAND
SHE SMILED AT ME
AND THEN SHE SMILED AGAIN....
TWO HOURS FLEW BY
TWAS TIME TO GO
AND THIS I CANT DENY
I ASKED IF I MIGHT HAVE A KISS
AND THEN WE'D SAY GOOD BYE
''NOT HERE YOU FOOL
THERE'S PEOPLE ROUND AND CAMERAS IN THE SKY
JUST FOLLOW ME TO POTS AND PANS
AND THERE WE'LL SAY GOOD BYE
FOUR YEARS AGO IN WAL-MART STORE I MET A PRETTY LADY
SHE HAS BROWN EYES, A PRETTY SMILE
I HOPE SHE'LL STAY A LONG LONG WHILE .....
SEAJAY CECIL
FOUR YEARS AGO IN WAL MART STORE I SAW A PRETTY LADY
SHE HAD BROWN EYES, A PRETTY SMILE
I WONDERED IF SHE'D TALK A WHILE.
I SMILED AT HER,
SHE SMILED AT ME
I LOOKED AWAY AND THEN
TURNED BACK TO HER AND GAVE A SMILE
SHE SMILED AT ME AGAIN
WE SAT AND TALKED 'ORE COFFEE COLD
BOUT HOW OUR LIVES HAD BEEN
I TOUCHED HER HAND
SHE SMILED AT ME
AND THEN SHE SMILED AGAIN....
TWO HOURS FLEW BY
TWAS TIME TO GO
AND THIS I CANT DENY
I ASKED IF I MIGHT HAVE A KISS
AND THEN WE'D SAY GOOD BYE
''NOT HERE YOU FOOL
THERE'S PEOPLE ROUND AND CAMERAS IN THE SKY
JUST FOLLOW ME TO POTS AND PANS
AND THERE WE'LL SAY GOOD BYE
FOUR YEARS AGO IN WAL-MART STORE I MET A PRETTY LADY
SHE HAS BROWN EYES, A PRETTY SMILE
I HOPE SHE'LL STAY A LONG LONG WHILE .....
SEAJAY CECIL
TRAVLES OF SEAJAY AND WILLA .......
A COUPLE OF YOU GUYS HAVE ASKED FOR THIS SO HERE IT IS . IT IS SATIRE OF OUR TRIP TO ALASKA ....... ENJOY ........... THERE WILL BE MORE IF YOU GUYS WANT IT ....
This is the odyssey of the travels of my wife and myself on a trip we took to Alaska. We left on the twenty third day of May and returned back to North Carolina on late August. During the trip we traveled about 16000 miles and we were gone about four months.
The travels of Seajay and Willa.
First hand account of the trials and tribulations of motor home travel.
Me and Willa left North Carolina in a thirty three foot, A class motor home on May 23rd . It was loaded to the extreme with all the necessities for motor home camping. We had plenty of food, maps, rope, tools, fishing equipment, and all the other necessities that you just don’t travel without. We had a case of duct tape (because you never know when you might run across a Duck that need taping.) We also carried our entire collection of cassette tapes in a large cardboard box.
We have a Geo Tracker that we pull behind the coach that is used for exploring and servers the purpose of a “rolling basement” and a rolling stowage area for miscellaneous items that are pretty much useless but are too good to throw away. These items are referred to as “STUFF”. Some of the “stuff” in the back seat of the Tracker was a follows: 100 feet of rope, one axe (very dull, handle cracked and taped) one satellite dish with 50 feet of coax. One satellite dish stand. A shovel with a broken handle. Several pieces of 2 by 12 for leveling the van. A tow rope. A large blue tarp. 3 fishin’ rods. 2 tackle boxes. 100 feet of garden hose and a lot of other “STUFF”.
We headed west from North Carolina thru Tennessee and Kentucky and thru two states that start with the letter “I”. We rambled thru the mid western states and on to South Dakota. We stopped and looked when we found something interesting and we were really enjoying the trip. We crossed South Dakota and turned north thru Wyoming.
Laughter, fun and food were the order of the day and everyday was a new adventure. We had never been thru Customs before and we were concerned about crossing into Canada. The fear of the unknown is a terrible thing and we had heard horror stories about people being strip-searched and their van ripped apart by the customs agents.
As we crossed Wyoming we prepared for the dreaded customs inspection. We had our medical records, birth certificates, and all or registration papers for the van and the Tracker. We made a list of the liquors, tobacco, beer, and any other thing we could think of so we would be prepared for any question. We quizzed each other with questions we thought they might ask at the border. We memorized the license numbers of the two vehicles. We wanted to be ready and whiz thru customs without a hitch.
As we approached the border I could see that Willa was a little nervous. She had become very quiet and her left hand was shaking a little.
“They can strip search us, can’t they”?
“Sure they can but don’t worry, I’ll do all the talking and we wont have any trouble at all”.
We eased up to the customs station and I stopped the van right in front of the window. I put the van in park and slid the side window open.
“Howdy”.
It took about 2 seconds to see that this customs agent was all business. She looked over her glasses at me and did not smile.
“Name”.
I blurted out my name.
“Number of people”
“Uuuhhhhhhhhh ……….. I’m the only one in here with that name. Her name is Willa, but I’m the only one named Seajay”.
She looked over her glasses at me again and typed something in the computer.
“No sir, I mean how many people are in the van”.
Fear enveloped me. I had blown it. I had given a bad answer and she had written something down and I knew we were in trouble. I glanced at Willa and she was wrapped with fear. Her body was contorting into a shape like Quazimoto and she was starting to drool. I could just see the both of us in a cold room with some big-fingered customs agent probing for contraband while two other agents ripped the van apart with crowbars. I tried to regain my composure but my hands were starting to shake and I wet my pants but I tried to remain calm. With a tremble in my voice I replied.
“Two of us. Just me and Willa. No one else, except us, together, her and me, alone, except for each other, together, by our selves but with each other alone”. I smiled a friendly smile.
She wrote something else into the computer.
“Destination”.
“Alaska. Me and Willa are going to Alaska. We are going to travel straight thru to Alaska. We ain’t gonna stop. We are just passing thru Canada to get to Alaska because that’s where we are going. Alaska.”
I realized that this did not sound like we liked Canada and in mid thought I decided that I should at least say something nice about Canada.
“Uuuuuhhhhhh. But we will stop in Canada if it’s ok to stop in Canada. We like Canada and we will stop in Canada too. And spend money, and buy things because we like Canadians because we are sure they are nice folks with stuff to sell, because we brought money to spend in Canada too”.
She looked over her glasses again and typed something in the computer.
“Look mister, I realize that this is probably your first crossing into Canada and you are a little nervous. Just stay calm and just answer the questions and this will make as simple as possible”.
“Are you carrying any guns, tobacco, drugs, beer, wine or liquors”?
“Yes, yes, no, yes, no and yes”.
She laid her head down on the desk and kind of shuttered. She raised her head back and with a determined stare said. “Ok mister, which answer goes with which question.”
I finally got the right answers to the proper questions and she typed something else in the computer.
“How long do you intend to stay in Canada”?
“Ohhhhhhh, for a long time because we like Canada and we like the people too and we uuuhhhhhh…. I don’t know”.
She typed something else into the computer.
“Enjoy your trip sir. You may proceed. Enjoy your journey”.
I was completely taken by surprise. I was dumbfounded. We had cleared customs. I pressed on the accelerator and the engine whined but the van didn’t move. Thinking I had put the van in neutral I moved the gear lever one notch down and gunned the engine. The van lurched backwards and I smashed into the truck behind me breaking out his head light with the bumper of the Tracker.
The customs agent rose from her chair and looked out the window at the truck.
“Just go on sir. No harm done. He would have probably broken the head light anyway”.
I eased out of the border crossing and the entire ordeal had been too much for Willas nerves and she threw up in the box of cassette tapes.
We headed north after I changed my pants and Babe cleaned out the cassette box.
SEAJAY AND WILLA THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES
SKINNUM JOES, GAS AND TIRE REPAIRS
After crossing the border we realized that we had no Canadian money and that we were getting a little low on gas.
“Let’s stop at the next place we see and get some of our money changed and maybe we can get some gas and get the back bumper of the Tracker repaired”.
“I seen a sign that said “Skinnum Joes” up ahead, maybe we could stop there and get some gas”.
There was a sign written in crayon on the front of the gas pump that said
“EXCHANGE RATE 124, 11/14 (plus tax) AMERICAN”
I eased up to the pump.
A guy in coveralls walked up the window on the van.
“How much gas you need pal”?
“Give me 15 gallons please and do you exchange American money”?
“We sell gas by the liter”
“How many liters to the gallon”
“Oh, about 3 and 23/42nds, give or take a little”
“Sooooo, how much do I need for 15 gallons”?
“I ain’t sure. We can figure that out later”.
He stuck the nozzle in the gas filler and pressed the lever. Now it should be understood that some of these pumps up in Canada are the old mechanical type pump that still work on the “rotating number” system and this was one of those pumps. As he squeezed the lever the pump started running and the longer he held the lever the faster the numbers went. At somewhere between three and five gallons the numbers became a blur and the pump started to shake violently.
“Guess I need a re-balance on the numbers again”.
“I’ll go in and get some money changed over into Canadian dollars so I can pay for the gas”.
To be sure I would get some small bill in Canadian money I gave the guy behind the counter four one hundreds, five twenties, two fifties, three tens, two fives, three ones and a hand full of change. The guy behind the counter smiled at me and said that since I was getting a rather large amount changed that Skinnum Joe would split the “exchange tax” so I would save money.
“That will be fifty four dollars and seventy cents pal”.
“Soooo, how many gallons did I get”?
“Well, if you take the liters and multiply them by three and eleven twenty-fourths and then you divide that by the number of gallons you wanted and then you divide that by the exchange rate of one twenty four plus a little and deduct the exchange tax from that you will see how much this is in American money and you will find I gave you a real bargain on the gas because you are our first customer of the day”.
I thanked Skinnum Joe and walked back to the van.
“Ask him if he can fix the bumper on the Tracker”.
“He don’t fix bumpers, he just sells gas and fixes flats. We can get it fixed later”.
We headed north. The adventure continues ………..
When you have a tow vehicle behind your motor home that vehicle becomes a convent place to store “STUFF”. I use my Tracker as sort of a “rolling basement” and I use the back seat for storing things that I am too lazy to put back in the compartments of the van. The further we go the more “STUFF” we seem to accumulate and the deeper the “STUFF” gets in the back seat of the tracker. Here is a brief inventory of “STUFF” that we had accumulated in the back seat.
One satellite dish with stand and all assorted parts including 100 feet of coax.
One shovel (the handle is broken about half way down but it’s still handy)
One ax (the handle is loose and cracked and the blade is very dull but its nice for firewood)
100 feet of nylon rope. (It was coiled up but it is now tangled with the satellite dish and the coax and the shovel, the ax, and the other “stuff”)
50 feet of garden hose with a flattened hose bib. (I can fix that later)
A pizza box with two slices of anchovy pizza left over in it.
Several sticks of firewood (left by another camper)
Six pieces of 2 x 8 lumber used for leveling the van when we park.
Assorted other “STUFF” too numerous to mention and too valuable to throw away.
I eased the van into the campground and we set up for the night.
“Honey, hook up the dish so I can watch Wheel of Fortune. You know how I love to watch that show and the only channel we can get on the antenna is in French and I want to see “wheel”.
“No problem darling, I’ll get it done in a few minutes”
I opened the passenger door and slid the seat forward. Somewhere under the “stuff” was the satellite antenna. I leaned over and tried to lift the “stuff “ with my right hand so I could remove the satellite with my left hand. I squatted down beside the car for better leverage and as I got the “stuff” lifted the first “skeeter” bit me between my belt and the bottom of my shirt. He was one of those famous humming bird size “skeeters” that only takes a pint of blood. I swatted at him with my free hand, lost my balance and my feet slid under the Tracker and I wound up in the seated position with my right hand trapped under about fifty pounds of “stuff”. In disgust I laid my head on the seat trying to compose myself when a fellow camper came by. He assumed that I was praying and he knelt beside me and bowed his head. I waited until he said Amen and left before I continued cursing under my breath. About then the “skeeters” came back in force and they used attack plan “B”. That is where they all light at once and start eating. About that time Willa opened the door of the van.
“Who are you waving at dear”?
“Why are you working on the car”?
“You shouldn’t sit on the ground, you will get your clothes dirty”.
“You better hurry up because Wheel comes on in about ten minutes”>
“Why are you cursing”?
The answer I gave cannot be printed so I will have to leave this part of the story out. It is safe to assume that her response was to slam the van door hard enough to knock the lens off the outside light and to get me a night on the couch with cold beans for supper. My hand is healing nicely now and we are back on speaking terms but Willa missed Wheel of Fortune that night….
THE COOK OUT ……
It should be understood that some of the campgrounds along the Alaska Highway are “Primitive” Some of the campsites are not really level and there are trees in your way when you try to unroll your awning.
We stopped for the night in Swamp water Campground. The camping was only ten dollars Canadian. I backed the camper in and we were setting up for the night when Babe suggested we grill some steaks. The weather was slightly threatening so I decided to unroll the awning for protection. It should be understood that not all camp grounds have picnic tables and sometimes if you want to “grill out’ you have to improvise. This involves finding a trashcan, turning the lid upside down on top of it for a “grill stand”. This works well as long as no one has thrown fish in the trash can recently.
I unlatched the awning and pulled on the strap to unroll it. We were parked beside a tree and the awning would only unroll a little over half way. I found a clean trashcan and made me a table and set the grill on top of it. The wind was puffing a little and the awning was flapping so I decided to stabilize the awning by tying the pull strap to the handle of the trashcan. The grill was heating nicely and I put on the steaks. Willa started fixing salad and some garlic bread in the van while I tended the steaks. They were coming along nicely so I stepped inside to get some refreshment (beer). At the moment I stepped back out the door of the van a puff of wind “ballooned” the awning up. It had just enough force to move the awning to make the awning “re roll itself”. With that the awning developed a mind of its own. The ‘rewind” spring took over and the awning shot back toward the van like a loosed window shade. As the awning re rolled its self the “pull strap” was snatched up and inward. The trashcan did a double back flip and was yanked toward me and the side of the van with the grill doing a half gainer with a full twist while the steaks went flying to parts unknown while I was dodging the flying trash can being propelled at me like a freight train. I dodged the trashcan but it smashed into the side of the van. The grill was lying on its side with the charcoal scattered in the grass and the steaks were in the gravel road in front of the van.
“Honey, why are you hitting the van with the trashcan”
“Why did you throw the steaks in the road”?
“Why are you setting the grass on fire with the charcoal”?
“Why is the grill laying on the ground”?
The answer I gave got me a salad with garlic bread and cold beans for supper and another night on the sofa ……..
This is the odyssey of the travels of my wife and myself on a trip we took to Alaska. We left on the twenty third day of May and returned back to North Carolina on late August. During the trip we traveled about 16000 miles and we were gone about four months.
The travels of Seajay and Willa.
First hand account of the trials and tribulations of motor home travel.
Me and Willa left North Carolina in a thirty three foot, A class motor home on May 23rd . It was loaded to the extreme with all the necessities for motor home camping. We had plenty of food, maps, rope, tools, fishing equipment, and all the other necessities that you just don’t travel without. We had a case of duct tape (because you never know when you might run across a Duck that need taping.) We also carried our entire collection of cassette tapes in a large cardboard box.
We have a Geo Tracker that we pull behind the coach that is used for exploring and servers the purpose of a “rolling basement” and a rolling stowage area for miscellaneous items that are pretty much useless but are too good to throw away. These items are referred to as “STUFF”. Some of the “stuff” in the back seat of the Tracker was a follows: 100 feet of rope, one axe (very dull, handle cracked and taped) one satellite dish with 50 feet of coax. One satellite dish stand. A shovel with a broken handle. Several pieces of 2 by 12 for leveling the van. A tow rope. A large blue tarp. 3 fishin’ rods. 2 tackle boxes. 100 feet of garden hose and a lot of other “STUFF”.
We headed west from North Carolina thru Tennessee and Kentucky and thru two states that start with the letter “I”. We rambled thru the mid western states and on to South Dakota. We stopped and looked when we found something interesting and we were really enjoying the trip. We crossed South Dakota and turned north thru Wyoming.
Laughter, fun and food were the order of the day and everyday was a new adventure. We had never been thru Customs before and we were concerned about crossing into Canada. The fear of the unknown is a terrible thing and we had heard horror stories about people being strip-searched and their van ripped apart by the customs agents.
As we crossed Wyoming we prepared for the dreaded customs inspection. We had our medical records, birth certificates, and all or registration papers for the van and the Tracker. We made a list of the liquors, tobacco, beer, and any other thing we could think of so we would be prepared for any question. We quizzed each other with questions we thought they might ask at the border. We memorized the license numbers of the two vehicles. We wanted to be ready and whiz thru customs without a hitch.
As we approached the border I could see that Willa was a little nervous. She had become very quiet and her left hand was shaking a little.
“They can strip search us, can’t they”?
“Sure they can but don’t worry, I’ll do all the talking and we wont have any trouble at all”.
We eased up to the customs station and I stopped the van right in front of the window. I put the van in park and slid the side window open.
“Howdy”.
It took about 2 seconds to see that this customs agent was all business. She looked over her glasses at me and did not smile.
“Name”.
I blurted out my name.
“Number of people”
“Uuuhhhhhhhhh ……….. I’m the only one in here with that name. Her name is Willa, but I’m the only one named Seajay”.
She looked over her glasses at me again and typed something in the computer.
“No sir, I mean how many people are in the van”.
Fear enveloped me. I had blown it. I had given a bad answer and she had written something down and I knew we were in trouble. I glanced at Willa and she was wrapped with fear. Her body was contorting into a shape like Quazimoto and she was starting to drool. I could just see the both of us in a cold room with some big-fingered customs agent probing for contraband while two other agents ripped the van apart with crowbars. I tried to regain my composure but my hands were starting to shake and I wet my pants but I tried to remain calm. With a tremble in my voice I replied.
“Two of us. Just me and Willa. No one else, except us, together, her and me, alone, except for each other, together, by our selves but with each other alone”. I smiled a friendly smile.
She wrote something else into the computer.
“Destination”.
“Alaska. Me and Willa are going to Alaska. We are going to travel straight thru to Alaska. We ain’t gonna stop. We are just passing thru Canada to get to Alaska because that’s where we are going. Alaska.”
I realized that this did not sound like we liked Canada and in mid thought I decided that I should at least say something nice about Canada.
“Uuuuuhhhhhh. But we will stop in Canada if it’s ok to stop in Canada. We like Canada and we will stop in Canada too. And spend money, and buy things because we like Canadians because we are sure they are nice folks with stuff to sell, because we brought money to spend in Canada too”.
She looked over her glasses again and typed something in the computer.
“Look mister, I realize that this is probably your first crossing into Canada and you are a little nervous. Just stay calm and just answer the questions and this will make as simple as possible”.
“Are you carrying any guns, tobacco, drugs, beer, wine or liquors”?
“Yes, yes, no, yes, no and yes”.
She laid her head down on the desk and kind of shuttered. She raised her head back and with a determined stare said. “Ok mister, which answer goes with which question.”
I finally got the right answers to the proper questions and she typed something else in the computer.
“How long do you intend to stay in Canada”?
“Ohhhhhhh, for a long time because we like Canada and we like the people too and we uuuhhhhhh…. I don’t know”.
She typed something else into the computer.
“Enjoy your trip sir. You may proceed. Enjoy your journey”.
I was completely taken by surprise. I was dumbfounded. We had cleared customs. I pressed on the accelerator and the engine whined but the van didn’t move. Thinking I had put the van in neutral I moved the gear lever one notch down and gunned the engine. The van lurched backwards and I smashed into the truck behind me breaking out his head light with the bumper of the Tracker.
The customs agent rose from her chair and looked out the window at the truck.
“Just go on sir. No harm done. He would have probably broken the head light anyway”.
I eased out of the border crossing and the entire ordeal had been too much for Willas nerves and she threw up in the box of cassette tapes.
We headed north after I changed my pants and Babe cleaned out the cassette box.
SEAJAY AND WILLA THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES
SKINNUM JOES, GAS AND TIRE REPAIRS
After crossing the border we realized that we had no Canadian money and that we were getting a little low on gas.
“Let’s stop at the next place we see and get some of our money changed and maybe we can get some gas and get the back bumper of the Tracker repaired”.
“I seen a sign that said “Skinnum Joes” up ahead, maybe we could stop there and get some gas”.
There was a sign written in crayon on the front of the gas pump that said
“EXCHANGE RATE 124, 11/14 (plus tax) AMERICAN”
I eased up to the pump.
A guy in coveralls walked up the window on the van.
“How much gas you need pal”?
“Give me 15 gallons please and do you exchange American money”?
“We sell gas by the liter”
“How many liters to the gallon”
“Oh, about 3 and 23/42nds, give or take a little”
“Sooooo, how much do I need for 15 gallons”?
“I ain’t sure. We can figure that out later”.
He stuck the nozzle in the gas filler and pressed the lever. Now it should be understood that some of these pumps up in Canada are the old mechanical type pump that still work on the “rotating number” system and this was one of those pumps. As he squeezed the lever the pump started running and the longer he held the lever the faster the numbers went. At somewhere between three and five gallons the numbers became a blur and the pump started to shake violently.
“Guess I need a re-balance on the numbers again”.
“I’ll go in and get some money changed over into Canadian dollars so I can pay for the gas”.
To be sure I would get some small bill in Canadian money I gave the guy behind the counter four one hundreds, five twenties, two fifties, three tens, two fives, three ones and a hand full of change. The guy behind the counter smiled at me and said that since I was getting a rather large amount changed that Skinnum Joe would split the “exchange tax” so I would save money.
“That will be fifty four dollars and seventy cents pal”.
“Soooo, how many gallons did I get”?
“Well, if you take the liters and multiply them by three and eleven twenty-fourths and then you divide that by the number of gallons you wanted and then you divide that by the exchange rate of one twenty four plus a little and deduct the exchange tax from that you will see how much this is in American money and you will find I gave you a real bargain on the gas because you are our first customer of the day”.
I thanked Skinnum Joe and walked back to the van.
“Ask him if he can fix the bumper on the Tracker”.
“He don’t fix bumpers, he just sells gas and fixes flats. We can get it fixed later”.
We headed north. The adventure continues ………..
When you have a tow vehicle behind your motor home that vehicle becomes a convent place to store “STUFF”. I use my Tracker as sort of a “rolling basement” and I use the back seat for storing things that I am too lazy to put back in the compartments of the van. The further we go the more “STUFF” we seem to accumulate and the deeper the “STUFF” gets in the back seat of the tracker. Here is a brief inventory of “STUFF” that we had accumulated in the back seat.
One satellite dish with stand and all assorted parts including 100 feet of coax.
One shovel (the handle is broken about half way down but it’s still handy)
One ax (the handle is loose and cracked and the blade is very dull but its nice for firewood)
100 feet of nylon rope. (It was coiled up but it is now tangled with the satellite dish and the coax and the shovel, the ax, and the other “stuff”)
50 feet of garden hose with a flattened hose bib. (I can fix that later)
A pizza box with two slices of anchovy pizza left over in it.
Several sticks of firewood (left by another camper)
Six pieces of 2 x 8 lumber used for leveling the van when we park.
Assorted other “STUFF” too numerous to mention and too valuable to throw away.
I eased the van into the campground and we set up for the night.
“Honey, hook up the dish so I can watch Wheel of Fortune. You know how I love to watch that show and the only channel we can get on the antenna is in French and I want to see “wheel”.
“No problem darling, I’ll get it done in a few minutes”
I opened the passenger door and slid the seat forward. Somewhere under the “stuff” was the satellite antenna. I leaned over and tried to lift the “stuff “ with my right hand so I could remove the satellite with my left hand. I squatted down beside the car for better leverage and as I got the “stuff” lifted the first “skeeter” bit me between my belt and the bottom of my shirt. He was one of those famous humming bird size “skeeters” that only takes a pint of blood. I swatted at him with my free hand, lost my balance and my feet slid under the Tracker and I wound up in the seated position with my right hand trapped under about fifty pounds of “stuff”. In disgust I laid my head on the seat trying to compose myself when a fellow camper came by. He assumed that I was praying and he knelt beside me and bowed his head. I waited until he said Amen and left before I continued cursing under my breath. About then the “skeeters” came back in force and they used attack plan “B”. That is where they all light at once and start eating. About that time Willa opened the door of the van.
“Who are you waving at dear”?
“Why are you working on the car”?
“You shouldn’t sit on the ground, you will get your clothes dirty”.
“You better hurry up because Wheel comes on in about ten minutes”>
“Why are you cursing”?
The answer I gave cannot be printed so I will have to leave this part of the story out. It is safe to assume that her response was to slam the van door hard enough to knock the lens off the outside light and to get me a night on the couch with cold beans for supper. My hand is healing nicely now and we are back on speaking terms but Willa missed Wheel of Fortune that night….
THE COOK OUT ……
It should be understood that some of the campgrounds along the Alaska Highway are “Primitive” Some of the campsites are not really level and there are trees in your way when you try to unroll your awning.
We stopped for the night in Swamp water Campground. The camping was only ten dollars Canadian. I backed the camper in and we were setting up for the night when Babe suggested we grill some steaks. The weather was slightly threatening so I decided to unroll the awning for protection. It should be understood that not all camp grounds have picnic tables and sometimes if you want to “grill out’ you have to improvise. This involves finding a trashcan, turning the lid upside down on top of it for a “grill stand”. This works well as long as no one has thrown fish in the trash can recently.
I unlatched the awning and pulled on the strap to unroll it. We were parked beside a tree and the awning would only unroll a little over half way. I found a clean trashcan and made me a table and set the grill on top of it. The wind was puffing a little and the awning was flapping so I decided to stabilize the awning by tying the pull strap to the handle of the trashcan. The grill was heating nicely and I put on the steaks. Willa started fixing salad and some garlic bread in the van while I tended the steaks. They were coming along nicely so I stepped inside to get some refreshment (beer). At the moment I stepped back out the door of the van a puff of wind “ballooned” the awning up. It had just enough force to move the awning to make the awning “re roll itself”. With that the awning developed a mind of its own. The ‘rewind” spring took over and the awning shot back toward the van like a loosed window shade. As the awning re rolled its self the “pull strap” was snatched up and inward. The trashcan did a double back flip and was yanked toward me and the side of the van with the grill doing a half gainer with a full twist while the steaks went flying to parts unknown while I was dodging the flying trash can being propelled at me like a freight train. I dodged the trashcan but it smashed into the side of the van. The grill was lying on its side with the charcoal scattered in the grass and the steaks were in the gravel road in front of the van.
“Honey, why are you hitting the van with the trashcan”
“Why did you throw the steaks in the road”?
“Why are you setting the grass on fire with the charcoal”?
“Why is the grill laying on the ground”?
The answer I gave got me a salad with garlic bread and cold beans for supper and another night on the sofa ……..
CHRISTMAS IN FLORIDA
I AM TYPING THIS IN CAPPS SO YOU OLD FOLKS CAN READ IT EASILY.
WE DID OUR USUAL CHRISTMAS THING BY COMING TO FLORIDA DURING THE HOLIDAY. WE WENT TO WALLACE TO SEE WILLA'S KIDS FOR A FEW DAYS AND THEN AMBLED DOWN TO ST. AUGUSTINE TO SEE WAYNE AND SHIRLEY JOHNSON. WAYNE AND I WENT TO SCHOOL TOGETHER BACK IN JAMESTOWN AND IT HAS BEEN FIFTY YEARS SINCE I HAVE SEEN THE MAN. IT IS AMAZING BECAUSE HE AND I HAVE NOT CHANGED ONE BIT SINCE GRADUATION BACK IN 58. WE ARE STILL THE SAME ''SLIM TRIM'' ROBUST YOUTHS THAT WE WERE BACK THEN.(cough cough)(yeah sure)
WAYNE AND SHIRLEY CAME OVER TO THE COACH AND WE SAT AND SHOT THE BULL ABOUT OLD TIMES IN HIGH SCHOOL. ABOUT TIMES WHEN WE WERE A LOT DUMBER THAN WE ARE NOW. ABOUT GETTING DRUNK AND DOING STUPID THINGS. WE SAT AND TALKED AND LAUGHED. WE WENT OUT FOR DINNER AT A NICE RESTAURANT WITH CLOTH NAPKINS AND REAL FORKS AND SPOONS. THE TYPE PLACE WHERE YOU DON'T CARRY A TRAY AND YOU CANT ''BIGGIE'' YOUR FRIES AND COKE. GOOD FOOD AND GOOD FELLOWSHIP WERE THE ORDER OF THE EVENING. SHIRLEY BROUGHT US A NICE PLATE OF HOME MADE COOKIES AND THE GREAT PROBLEM WITH THEN IS THAT THEY ARE ALL GONE AS OF YESTERDAY. WILLA AND I FOUGHT OVER THE LAST RICE CRISPIER TREAT.
WE ARE NOW CAMPED AT ''LAKE LOCHLOOSA RV PARK'' HERE ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE. I WILL PUT THE BOAT IN TODAY AND TRY FOR SOME ''SPECKS'' (CRAPPIE). I GOTTA PUT MY 'MAXAIR' FAN ON TOP OF THE COACH WHILE THE BATTERY FOR THE BOAT IS CHARGING.
MORE LATER IF THE FISH START BITING ..........
WILLA GUS FINNIE AND me ...
WE DID OUR USUAL CHRISTMAS THING BY COMING TO FLORIDA DURING THE HOLIDAY. WE WENT TO WALLACE TO SEE WILLA'S KIDS FOR A FEW DAYS AND THEN AMBLED DOWN TO ST. AUGUSTINE TO SEE WAYNE AND SHIRLEY JOHNSON. WAYNE AND I WENT TO SCHOOL TOGETHER BACK IN JAMESTOWN AND IT HAS BEEN FIFTY YEARS SINCE I HAVE SEEN THE MAN. IT IS AMAZING BECAUSE HE AND I HAVE NOT CHANGED ONE BIT SINCE GRADUATION BACK IN 58. WE ARE STILL THE SAME ''SLIM TRIM'' ROBUST YOUTHS THAT WE WERE BACK THEN.(cough cough)(yeah sure)
WAYNE AND SHIRLEY CAME OVER TO THE COACH AND WE SAT AND SHOT THE BULL ABOUT OLD TIMES IN HIGH SCHOOL. ABOUT TIMES WHEN WE WERE A LOT DUMBER THAN WE ARE NOW. ABOUT GETTING DRUNK AND DOING STUPID THINGS. WE SAT AND TALKED AND LAUGHED. WE WENT OUT FOR DINNER AT A NICE RESTAURANT WITH CLOTH NAPKINS AND REAL FORKS AND SPOONS. THE TYPE PLACE WHERE YOU DON'T CARRY A TRAY AND YOU CANT ''BIGGIE'' YOUR FRIES AND COKE. GOOD FOOD AND GOOD FELLOWSHIP WERE THE ORDER OF THE EVENING. SHIRLEY BROUGHT US A NICE PLATE OF HOME MADE COOKIES AND THE GREAT PROBLEM WITH THEN IS THAT THEY ARE ALL GONE AS OF YESTERDAY. WILLA AND I FOUGHT OVER THE LAST RICE CRISPIER TREAT.
WE ARE NOW CAMPED AT ''LAKE LOCHLOOSA RV PARK'' HERE ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE. I WILL PUT THE BOAT IN TODAY AND TRY FOR SOME ''SPECKS'' (CRAPPIE). I GOTTA PUT MY 'MAXAIR' FAN ON TOP OF THE COACH WHILE THE BATTERY FOR THE BOAT IS CHARGING.
MORE LATER IF THE FISH START BITING ..........
WILLA GUS FINNIE AND me ...
Thursday, August 21, 2008
MY WILLA
WILLA LOST HER HUSBAND IN 02 TO A MOTORCYCLE ACCIDENT. I LOST MY FIRST WIFE LINDA TO A BRAIN ANEURYSM ON OCTOBER 1 OF 03. SHE WAS A HAPPY HEALTHY LADY ONE DAY AND DEAD THE NEXT. LIFE IS TENUOUS FOLKS. WE MET AT WAL MART AND THE FIRST TIME I KISSED HER WAS BETWEEN THE POTS AND PANS BUT THATS ANOTHER STORY. WE TALKED ON THE PHONE AND WE WOULD MEET AT WAL MART. SOMETIMES WE WOULD GO OUT AND EAT AND SOMETIMES JUST SIT AND TALK. SHE FINALLY INVITED ME TO HER HOUSE IN BOONE FOR DINNER. THIS WAS A REAL TRAGEDY. SHE MADE BEEF STEW, POTATO SALAD, GREEN BEANS, AND ICE TEA.
THE CARROTS IN THE BEEF STEW WERE STILL HARD AS ROCKS
ONE OF THE POTATOES IN THE SALAD DIDN’T GET DONE AND IT WAS HARD
SHE SWEETENED THE ICE TEA 'TWICE'
WE STUMBLED THRU THE MEAL AND SHE APOLOGIZED ABOUT THE MESS UPS. SHE WAS VERY NERVOUS AND WAS REALLY TRYING TO IMPRESS ME. WE WENT IN THE LIVING ROOM AND TALKED FOR A WHILE AND I STARTED TO LEAVE TO GO HOME. SHE STOPPED ME AT THE DOOR AND DECLARED ''I HAVE DESSERT''. ''ITS PECAN PIE''... I DECLINED FEARING SHE MAY HAVE NOT REMOVED THE INSIDE FROM THE OUTSIDE OF THE NUTS. AS I LEFT SHE SHOUTED .....'' I'M A GOOD COOK...... LOOK HOW BIG I AM''.....`
WE LAUGH ABOUT THIS NOW BUT YOU COULD TELL SHE WAS REALLY TRYING TO IMPRESS ME AND SHE JUST MADE A FEW ERRORS. WE DATED FOR A WHILE AND I TOLD HER THAT I WANTED TO GO BACK TO ALASKA IN 05. WILLA WAS STILL WORKING IN A REHAB CENTER IN BOONE. SHE IS A REGISTERED NURSE. I TOLD HER THAT SHE REALLY NEEDS TO RETIRE SO WE CAN TRAVEL EASILY. SHE RETIRED AND WE STARTED DOING SOME SERIOUS TRAVELING. IN JUNE OF 05 WE WENT TO ALASKA FOR FOUR MONTHS. WE HAD A WONDERFUL TIME. WILLA HAD NEVER REALLY BEEN ANYWHERE AND I HAD BEEN ABOUT EVERYWHERE. IT IS FUN SEEING THINGS THRU HER EYES AND FUN TO SHOW HER THIS WONDERFUL LAND WE LIVE IN. AFTER THE TRIP TO ALASKA I ASKED HER TO MARRY ME. SHE AGREED AND IN 06 WE WENT TO NIAGARA FALLS AND GOT MARRIED BESIDE THE AMERICAN FALLS. IT WAS REALLY BEAUTIFUL. IT WAS JUST A SIMPLE CEREMONY BUT IT WAS REALLY NICE. WE TOOK 3 MONTHS IN NOVA SCOTIA ON OUR HONEY MOON. ON THE WAY HOME WE FOUND A 53 BENTLEY IN A WEED PATCH IN EASTPORT MAINE. WE BOUGHT IT AND HAULED IT HOME. THAT IS ANOTHER STORY IN ITS SELF. SINCE 05 WE HAVE PUT ABOUT 66 THOUSAND MILES ON THIS MOTOR HOME. WE HAVE BEEN IN EVERY STATE IN THE UNION EXCEPT HAWAII AND WE ARE STILL TRAVELING.
WILLA WAS A TRUE 'GOD SEND' TO ME. WHEN LINDA, MY FIRST WIFE, DIED I WANTED TO BE DEAD ALSO. WE HAD NO CHILDREN. I HAD NO MOTHER NO FATHER NO SISTER NO BROTHER NO SON NO DAUGHTER AND NO WIFE. LIFE HELD NOTHING FOR ME. I CHANGED MY WILL MAKING SOME ENDOWMENTS FOR FRIENDS AND GOD CHILDREN I CARE FOR. I GAVE AWAY SOME THINGS BECAUSE I HAD NO NEED FOR THEM ANY MORE. I SLEPT ON THE SOFA BECAUSE I COULD NOT USE OUR BEDROOM. I SLEPT WITH A 357 COLT UNDER THE PILLOW. LIFE MEANT NOTHING TO ME. I MET WILLA IN 04 AND SHE GAVE ME CAUSE TO LIVE. SHE SAVED MY LIFE BY GIVING ME SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR AND SOMEONE TO LOVE AGAIN.
ABOUT 6 MONTHS AGO I HAD A MOST REAL DREAM. IT IS TRUE AS I SWEAR IT AND I SWEAR IT ON MY LOVE FOR WILLA. HERE IS THE DREAM AS I REMEMBER IT.
WILLA AND I WERE DOWN AT THE CREEK SHOOTING THE RIFLE AT TARGETS. WE HEARD KIDS COMING UP THE SIDE OF THE CREEK SO WE STOPPED SHOOTING. ABOUT 15 KIDS CAME UP THE EDGE OF THE CREEK THROWING STONES IN THE WATER AND DOING WHAT FIVE AND SIX YEAR OLDS DO BEST. MY SISTER-IN-LAW WAS WITH THE KIDS ..
SHE SAID....'THE KIDS WANTED TO COME TO THE CREEK ON A FIELD TRIP'.
AS SHE WALKED PAST SHE SAID .....'THERE IS SOMEONE FOLLOWING ME THAT YOU MIGHT LIKE TO SEE'.........
BETTY WENT OUT OF SIGHT WITH THE KIDS AND AROUND THE CURVE IN THE CREEK CAME MY FIRST WIFE LINDA. SHE WAS IN BOOTS, JEANS, A NICE BLOUSE AND SHE LOOKED LIKE SHE DID WHEN SHE WAS 30 YEARS OLD.....
SHE WALKED UP TO ME AND STOPPED. I FINALLY STAMMERED OUT.
''BABE, I WOULD LIKE YOU TO MEET MY NEW WIFE WILLA''...
SHE SMILED AND SAID. ''THAT’S NOT NECESSARY. I ALREADY KNOW HER.
I SENT HER TO YOU''.......................
SHE SMILED AND TURNED ON HER HEEL AND CONTINUED UP THE CREEK BANK FOLLOWING BETTY AND THE KIDS
THIS IS TRUE AS I SWEAR IT AND IT WAS AS REAL AS LIFE CAN BE.
more later.....
WILLA AND ME
CLASSIC CARS
THIS IS A PICTURE OF OUR CLASSIC CARS. BESIDES TRAVLE, WE REALLY ENJOY THESE CARS. WE DO A LOT OF CAR SHOWS AROUND HICKORY AND WE USUALLY ATTEND THE 'RUN TO THE SUN' IN SOUTH CAROLINA EACH YEAR. WE DRIVE THESE CARS ABOUT EVERY DAY THAT IT IS NOT RAINING. THESE ARE ONE OF THE REASONS WE DONT GO 'FULL TIME' IN THE R.V. WE HAVE A 53 BENTLEY MK IV WE ARE RESTORING NOW. IT IS IN THE BASEMENT IN ABOUT A HALF MILLION PIECES. IF I CAN STAY HOME LONG ENOUGH, I WILL PUT IT BACK TOGETHER AND DRIVE IT ALSO.
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