RV Boot Camp

For the past couple of days my dad has walked me through the secret workings of the RV, known as The Rig. He has shown me how to turn on the gas for the stove, oven, hot water heater and refrigerator. Without blowing up The Rig, my father or me, I lit the pilot lights to the oven and water heater. I cranked up the gas-powered generator, which can be used to power everything in the RV except the air conditioner- a luxury not found onboard the Cosmic Muffin.

I drove The Rig up to Moreau State Park where we did a dry run “dump”. The holding tanks were empty, but dad walked me through the steps. Remember to dump the black water before the gray, which flushes out the sewage from the toilet. It is important to watch the gauges that indicate the levels of fresh water, black and gray water and battery power. Of course, if I am plugged into electricity at a campground, life is sweet. But I am not planning to spend too many nights in campgrounds.

We fixed a few leaks around the camper’s sleeper, dabbed glue in a few places, tighten a couple of screws and replaced a fire extinguisher with a 1986 date. I vacuumed rat poison—left over from winterizing, but not enough to deter the varmints from chewing the heck out of electric wires which put the RV in the shop for three weeks and thus the need for RV Boot Camp—out of all the nooks and crannies and gave all the cabinets a good cleaning.

For twenty months after my dad’s retirement from “The Saratogian” where he was a printer, my parents traveled from NY to California, from Alaska to Mexico and most places between. It was a time I claimed that my parents ran away from home. They planned their trek over North America so they were in a near perpetual spring. They were campground hosts in Davidson River, NC, got scammed in Wyoming, rafted rivers in Alaska, wintered in Mexico and met people from all over. Holly, mom’s sheltie accompanied them throughout the trip. She even kept the Federalles out of The Rig when she started barking, making them think twice before “inspecting” the RV at the border. Sometimes it seems like mom and dad just finished their trip, but in reality it was twenty years ago. Each year, they have used The Rig less and less as they have grown older and older.

As I unloaded all the pots and pans, other kitchen utensils, old maps and campground guides from the 90’s collected by my mom and dad over the years, that I realized that the likelihood of my mom ever going on another RV trip long or short is remote. Dad, 82, is still in good health, but is slowing down. Mom, 78, in poor health and in a great deal of pain due to a bad back is not physically able to get into the camper unless she crawls in on her hands and knees.

Most items I removed from the camper would not be repacked. I am traveling as a minimalist (except for my computers, printer, office supplies and 286 paperback copies of The Last Voyage of the Cosmic Muffin). I don’t plan to bake muffins, brew coffee, or cook meals beyond opening a can of something and pouring it in to a sauce pan, or boiling a pot of water for pasta. I have backpacked with one pocketknife; I don’t see much use for a slicing, a paring, a carving, or a bread and butter knife much less a cleaver, unless Jack Nicholson is stalking around outside. Nevertheless, I will have an ice pick with me. Why? Mom says you never know. I might get into an ice storm and have to hack my way out. If that happens I am driving to an airport and going to Hawaii.

I stood in the basement looking at my parent’s stuff and felt a sense of sadness. I was preparing for my four month tour in their RV when I was hit with the sinking realization that they will not RV again. Indeed the sadness was due to knowing that they have fond memories of their trips—long and short—and now neither are as active and capable as they once were. May I carry on where they left off.

Dad shared some words of wisdom. We had just finished turning on the water heater pilot light when he said I was a fast learner. I laughed, thinking of another man who tried to teach me things onboard his boat, but failed. I told dad this and he responded that some people teach like they don’t want you to learn. Yes, I think he was right. Then dad gave me his tool kit.

I graduated from RV Boot Camp, but just like after graduating from high school, there is still a lot to experience first hand. It is time to fly.