Tag Archives: RV

media news, national news

Retirement won’t mean disengagement

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

As I listen daily — and nightly — to news about the state of our national government under Donald J. Trump, I might be tempted to shuck it all when my bride and I hit the road during our retirement years.

Full-time retirement, I caution you, won’t mean full-time disengagement from the world that continues to swirl around us.

The former — full-time retirement — is approaching at a quickening pace. The latter, well, won’t change once we cross that threshold.

The only difference might lie in that as we travel a good bit more in our RV, we’ll be visiting portions of North America that don’t share the groupthink that is so prevalent in the Texas Panhandle. As such, my intention will be to talk to those we meet as pass through their communities. I hope to glean from them their view of the world.

We’ve had the joy of traveling some already in our RV, which we’ve owned for a couple of years. This past autumn, we took our longest trip — distance-wise — to southwestern South Dakota. It gave us a hint of the adventure that awaits us as we tool our way across two massive nations: the United States and Canada.

Along the way, I intend to be connected fully to the world.

Tempting as it might be — such as it is at this moment as the “news” is broadcast in the background of my home office — I won’t toss it all aside. I suppose you could say I am not wired simply to toss it all aside while we simply travel, kick off our shoes and not have a care in the world.

Modern technology has advanced to where we expect to be connected every mile of our journey. I intend fully to use that technology to keep this blog blazing away with praise where it’s warranted and, oh, criticism where that, too, is deserved.

I hope you’ll join us on our ride throughout North America.

local news

Transition quickens toward next step on our journey

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

The pace toward full-time retirement is quickening.

I’m getting more ready for it to arrive.

For the time being I’m now down to just one part-time job. A second part-time gig has been put on hold; I have been told it might be reactivated, perhaps soon. I am keeping my options open.

At the risk of getting the bum’s rush out of Dodge, I need to explain why the pace is speeding up a bit.

We’re packing up our house. More to the point, my wife is doing the packing. She’s really good at this stuff. I’m a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. We’ve made no secret of our desire to relocate. That day is coming along. Our family is aware of our plans and some of our closest friends have been given a detail or two of what we intend.

But listen up … please. That moment is not yet on the horizon. We aren’t moving in the next 45 minutes. We’re just preparing to take one final huge step in our life’s journey together.

We’re in our 60s. We have good health. We have lots of things we want to do. We have many places we want to see. We have the time, the inclination and the energy to haul our fifth wheel around the continent — and that is precisely what we intend to do.

Our journey together has taken us to 47 of the 50 states and a handful of Canadian provinces. We’ve been able to travel abroad to Asia, Central and South America, Europe and the Middle East (which, yes, is part of Asia). There’s always been a time limit, however. Work awaited back home.

We’re looking forward now to taking more time on the road and exploring some of the grandeur that surrounds us in North America. We have some family responsibilities to clear up.

The road ahead, though, is starting to clear out.

We hope to be ready soon to see what lies ahead.

local news, Uncategorized

Hey … what day is it?

retirement.pic_

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

I once knew this guy, the late Neil McKay, who was fond of poking fun at people.

“Aww,” Neil would say, “he doesn’t even know what day it is.” He meant the jab in a sort of kind-hearted way.

If he were around today, he could say that very thing about me.

It would be true … almost!

Back in the day, when I was working full time for a living, I had to know what day it is. It was imperative. I lived on deadlines and getting my work done by a certain time and a certain day — or else. Journalism makes those demands on those who practice the craft.

Now? I’m hard-pressed on occasion to keep ’em straight.

I’m aware that today is Friday. In fact, I rolled out of bed this morning knowing it. But the days do arrive when I cannot quite grasp the day of the week.

I end up looking at my watch — yes, I still wear one of those things on my wrist — to make sure I know the day.

The notion of retirement is freeing me of the time-sensitive obligations that tie down most of you working stiffs. Even though I’m there yet and have not arrived at the “fully retired” stage of life, I find myself grasping at times for information that I had locked in my noggin.

The day of the week? Gosh, I don’t know. Let me check.

My major concern these days — other than planning the next RV outing with my wife or awaiting the next visit with our granddaughter — seems to be ensuring that I am able to see the sun rise the next morning.

Four years and two months into this new, semi-retired phase of life, I’m happy to say … so far, so good.

local news, State news

Facing down an RV demon

canyon

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

Yes, I have demons. We all do … I believe.

One of my demons involves the recreational vehicle my wife and I own, which is a 28-foot fifth wheel we pull behind our three-quarter-ton pickup.

On our most recent trip, I managed to face down my RV demon.

We went to Caprock Canyons State Park, which is about a 90-minute drive southeast of Amarillo. It’s a beautiful park, with rugged back country that one must see to believe.

It has several very nice campsites.

They’re all back-in sites. No pull-through sites. When we made our reservation at the state park, I asked perhaps three times whether there were any pull-through sites. “No sir,” came the reply. “They’re all back-ins.”

All righty, then. We’ll do it.

bison

So, we went to Caprock Canyons. We arrived at the park gate, said “hey” to a group of bison grazing near the office, and then drove to our site at the Honey Flats camping area.

We pulled the RV to the site, then positioned the truck and the fifth wheel in a fairly straight alignment with the site. I surely understand the principle of backing a vehicle up with another one hitched to the rear: you turn the steering wheel in the opposite direction of where you want to turn the attached vehicle.

I backed the rig up. No sweat.

OK, truth be told, I had done this once before. We drove to an RV resort in Mesa, Ariz., a year ago, where we hooked up with my sister and brother-in-law. It, too, only had back-in sites. I managed — after considerable grief and perspiration — to get the vehicle backed into the site. I had considerable navigational help from my wife, sis and bro-in-law.

After backing in, I was exhausted. Pooped, man.

This time, at Caprock Canyons, the ordeal was far less stressful.

For that I am grateful. I haven’t conquered the demon just yet.

However, it’s on the ropes.

We plan to knock the RV demon out soon enough.

local news

Another travel milestone crossed

Retirement

This is the latest in a series of occasional blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

GALLUP, N.M. — I wasn’t waiting consciously for this revelation.

However, I knew I would recognize it when I felt it.

It occurred during our latest trip pulling our fifth wheel through three states.

The revelation showed itself when I realized I wasn’t thinking instinctively about returning home. Yes, I thought about when we would get back to our home on the Texas Tundra, but it was a conscious thought, one that I had to decide to think about.

We visited Carlsbad Caverns National Park, Guadalupe Mountains National Park, Sitting Bull Falls … all in far West Texas and southeastern New Mexico. Then we tooled over to Casa Grande, Ariz., between Tucson and Phoenix, to visit my uncle and aunt.

We have laughed all along the way, ogling the sights and enjoying Mother Nature’s splendor. We have enjoyed catching up a bit with family members.

Through it all, I haven’t harbored a single instinctive thought about going home. When we first started taking our RV onto the highway, I would think about the end of a particular journey. I couldn’t help myself. It never detracted from my enjoying the many moments we’ve shared so far. However, those thoughts did cross my mind.

Now we find ourselves getting caught up routinely in the real-time joy we experience on the road.

I mention this to signify that our comfort with our 28-foot fifth wheel has taken us to a new level of enjoyment in the travel we plan to do once we declare ourselves to be fully retired.

We’re not there just yet.

However, we’ll know when that moment arrives, too.

 

Uncategorized

Angels were watching over us

SOMEWHERE ON INTERSTATE 40, N.M. — My wife believes in angels.

After what happened to us today en route home from four nights in Santa Rosa, N.M., I think I’m going to join her in that belief.

We set out this morning from the RV park where we had camped out and headed east in Interstate 40. We got about 25 miles down the road when a couple came along side and began pointing frantically toward the rear of our RV. They were yelling something that sounded like “rear berries.”

We pulled over. So did they. We got out and looked at the rear of our fifth wheel. One of the left rear wheels was smoking. The “rear berries” turned out to be burned rear bearings. The couple offered us a kind word of support.

We didn’t get their names, so I’ll refer to them as Mr. and Mrs. Angel.

Mr. Angel told us he’s a retired California Highway Patrol trooper who in his retirement years hauls vehicles here and there. He and Mrs. Angel were towing a trailer carrying a pickup headed for Texas. “I’ve seen a lot of these things over the years, ” Mr. Angel said. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go any farther and had the wheel fly off,” he added. Gee, do ya think?

“Are you folks all right?” they asked. Yes. We’ll be fine.

It was around 9:15 a.m.

We called the RV club to which we belong, as it has a roadside assistance program we purchased.

As luck would have it, we happened to be on a spot on the freeway with excellent cell phone service. We got an operator on the line, told her of our dilemma and waited for her to look up someone who could help us.

She found someone — in Santa Rosa!

“He’ll be there in 30 to 35 minutes,” she said.

Nearly an hour later, he arrived. His name is Joey Muniz, owner of Big Rig Truck Service. “I’ve been doing this for 36 years,” Muniz told us, “and two times I’ve been involved with semi trucks rear-ending me on the highway.”

That was about the first piece of information he gave us. I’m not sure why he said that — whether to warn us to be alert or to assure us that it’s only happened twice in 36 years. Neither motive gave me much comfort, truth be told.

He tore the wheel apart. Good news. There was no damage to the hug or to the axle. Joey — the third guardian angel — echoed what Mr. Angel had said: “If you went much farther, the wheel would have flown off and you have been in a world of hurt.”

He told he’d have to take part of the wheel assembly back to his shop, find new bearings and pack them in grease. “I’ll be back in two hours, maybe less,” Muniz said.

Seventy-five minutes later, he pulled up. He had the bearings. He packed them in grease. He put the assembly back on the fifth wheel. But he had to improvise just a bit. The hub cover had flown off when the bearings burned up, so he had half of a Dr Pepper soda can that fit perfectly over the hub. He clamped it tightly so it would keep the dirt from getting inside.

“This’ll get you home, I promise,” he said, to which I responded, “If it doesn’t, I’m calling you.” He then said, “I’ll come fix it … again.”

After more than four hours stranded on that stretch of I-40, we finally were on our way home.

Just one final thought: Have you ever wondered, “Where are the police when you need them?” We sat there for hours and didn’t see a single New Mexico State Police trooper drive by. Hey, just wondering … you know?

OK, Joey didn’t work his magic on our RV for free, but I still consider him a guardian angel. As for Mr. and Mrs. Angel — wherever they are — many thanks for being there at just the right time.

You’ve made a believer out of me.

 

local news

This beats ‘free hot breakfast’ any time

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

DODGE CITY, Kan. — My wife just said something that tickled my funny bone.

“You know,” she said, “this is great. If we were staying at a hotel, we’d be fighting with others waiting to eat a ‘free hot breakfast,’ which of course really isn’t free; it’s just part of the room rate. I love doing this.”

“This” happened to be eating a light breakfast in our fifth wheel, which has been parked for the past four nights at an RV park.

We’re about to pack it up and head back home.

But her point about traveling this way, avoiding the occasional hassle of waiting in line to serve up overcooked — or undercooked — scrambled eggs, greasy sausage or bacon and lumpy oatmeal, is the way to go.

Not only that, and this remains one of life’s unsolved mysteries: The food tastes better in an RV than it does in a hotel. It’s like eating a hot dog at a baseball game. As the late singer/talk show host Mike Douglas once said, “A hot dog tastes like a filet mignon at a baseball game.”

The same can be said of a lemon muffin, yogurt and frozen fruit, and a cup of coffee — which is what my wife and I consumed this morning.

Well, the fun’s about to end. Got to get ready to go.

Knock yourselves out, hotel guests.

 

Uncategorized

First big RV trip: a rousing success

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

We can declare our first-ever multi-state, multi-day trip in our recreational vehicle to be a success.

And a rousing one at that.

We shoved off from Amarillo the morning of March 21 and arrived back home just yesterday. Our travel took us to Mesa, Ariz., where we met up with my sister and brother-in-law, who had driven their RV from just north of Vancouver, Wash.

We had a serious blast with them, enjoying the sunshine, a bit of fellowship with fellow RV owners encamped at the park in Mesa and visiting with our aunt and uncle, who live about an hour’s drive south of the Phoenix area.

Except for a couple of mechanical issues we’re going to resolve with the folks who sold us our fifth wheel, our trip began and ended well for us.

But we did learn a valuable lesson while towing our 28-foot RV: Do not venture somewhere until you know for certain whether you can be comfortable getting there — and then coming back out.

We pulled out of the RV park Friday morning to start our trip home, but then we decided to take a gander at an attraction called Tortilla Flats, about 25 miles or so northeast of Mesa along an Arizona state highway. We looked at our map and assumed we could keep on going to a more significant highway once we finished visiting the attraction, which was billed as a replica of a ghost town.

You know what they say about assuming … yes?

Tortilla Flats sits along a very narrow road, with plenty of curves, switchbacks and, I should add, some seemingly harrowing areas. We hauled our fifth wheel through and along all of it en route to Tortilla Flats. For a bit of the trip in there, the road was bordered on side by rocky cliffs and the other side by, well, a serious drop-off into a bright blue lake full of boaters and kayakers.

I had a nightmare scenario of getting the fifth wheel too close to the edge and being pulled into the drink backward by the plummeting RV.

We got there just fine, but then learned that getting out would present a bit of a challenge. The paved road became an unpaved road once we got past Tortilla Flats. We were advised by a young restaurant waitress that we should just go back the way we came in.

Well, OK. But to get turned around, we had to take the RV up a dirt hill, onto a parking area and get it pointed in the right direction for the return trip back to Apache Junction. It required us to back the thing up.

We sized up our turning area and decided we could get the truck and the RV lined up to back up in a straight line enough to get it turned toward the right direction.

So … we did.

And out we came. Back to Apache Junction, back to the main highway and off toward Payson, Holbrook and then on to Gallup. N.M., for a night’s stay.

We breezed home along Interstate 40 the next day.

All is good. Our fifth wheel has been cleaned of the bugs that splattered it on the way to Mesa.

Once we get the mechanical issues resolved, we’ll be ready to ride.

 

Uncategorized

Land line may go when retirement arrives

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts about impending retirement.

Having spewed already about the difficulty of cutting ourselves loose from our home telephone, some friends have reminded me of what I’ve noted already.

Retirement is going to bring a whole new lifestyle for my wife and me that more than likely will require us to cut the tie that binds us to our safety line.

Gosh. I didn’t even think of it.

Our retirement hopefully will feature travel. Lots of it, in fact. We’ll be on the road for extended periods of time in our fifth wheel. We intend to visit most of North America. We hope to take our fifth wheel to Mexico as well, but first things first: Our southerly neighbors will need to get control of the drug thugs who are running rampant, terrorizing tourists and other innocent victims.

But I digress.

The land line that has been such a staple in our lives isn’t going away any time soon, at least not immediately.

Eventually? Yes. That will be determined at a later date. For now, I’m having a lot of fun working my three part-time jobs. The RV awaits. When we climb aboard in our retirement years, I’m expecting to be fully mobile.