Tag Archives: RV

State news

Planning for an education on Texas history

We’re heading downstate soon for a two-week tour and we’ve made a tentative decision on one of the sights we intend to take in: the Bullock Texas State History Museum in Austin.

I regret I have not yet toured this place.

It’s not far from the State Capitol and it carries the name of one of the state’s more legendary political figures: former lieutenant governor and Texas comptroller Bob Bullock.

Bullock died some years ago of cancer. He was an irascible, often grouchy politician. He was a crusty, traditional Texas Democrat; by that I mean he wasn’t what you’d call a squishy liberal. I met him once while I was working in print journalism; it was near the end of his life and, to be candid, he looked like death warmed over. Lt. Gov. Bullock did not take good care of himself.

But, oh man, this man — who died in June 1999 — loved Texas. He was fond of finishing his public speeches with that gravely “God bless Texas” salutation. His political descendants from both parties have adopted that blessing as their own.

The museum in his memory opened in 2001 and it tells the story of Texas history like no other such display.

Now, I offer that view with no disrespect at all to the Panhandle-Plains Historical Museum on the campus at West Texas A&M University in Canyon, just down the highway a bit from Amarillo. I’ve been to the PPHM many times and have seen the flyers proclaiming it to be the “finest historical museum” in Texas. It’s a wonderful exhibit and I see something new every time I visit it.

Our RV travels are going to take us downstate for a tour of the Hill Country and later to the Golden Triangle, where we lived for nearly 11 years before moving in early 1995 to the Texas Panhandle. We’ll finish our jaunt in the Metroplex before heading back to Amarillo.

I am so looking forward to touring what I have heard for many years is a beautiful exhibit in Texas’s capital city.

local news

Happy Trails, Part 85

I’ve heard it hundreds of times in my life from friends: Autumn is their favorite season of the year.

You won’t hear that from me. We are now entering my favorite season. Spring portends a season of hope. Of renewal. We are coming out of the type of darkness that winter has blanketed over us.

It’s a season of change. This year particularly brings immense change for my wife and me.

Winter in the Texas Panhandle has been a challenge, to be sure. It’s been the driest winter we’ve ever experienced here. We’ve been through 22 winters on the High Plains and none of them has been as tinder dry as the one we’ve just endured.

From what I hear the dryness is expected to continue for the foreseeable future as well. But the coming warmth is going to awaken the dormant grass and assorted flora around here.

This post, though, isn’t really about coming out of the barren and dry winter. It’s about the change that we have initiated.

A big move awaits. It likely will occur soon. We have sold our house. We have moved completely into our recreational vehicle. The roof over our heads is perched on four wheels, which we tow behind a muscular pickup.

Our destination is somewhere in North Texas, in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex,, near our granddaughter. We have no definite plan lined out just yet, but one is coming into a little sharper focus as we ponder the next big step in our life together.

We won’t sever our ties to Amarillo. We intend to remain highly mobile, even after we resettle in North Texas. We intend to be frequent visitors to the city we’ve called home for 23-plus years.

The spring of 2018 will be unlike any season we’ve ever experienced. Of that I am absolutely certain, although the winter of 1996 was a beaut as well. We took possession of the house we had built in southwest Amarillo the day after the Winter Solstice and had a delightful Christmas opening boxes and rediscovering possessions we had stored away for nearly two years.

That was then. The next season of big change is at hand. It’s my favorite time of the year.

local news

Happy Trails, Part 84

My faith in our first responders remains strong.

They answered the call last night and fought some wildfires just west of Amarillo. The fire, fueled by howling wind and tinder-dry fuel, for a time threatened portions of the vast medical center way out yonder.

I awoke this morning and learned that the fires had been contained; no loss of life or even any injury. The wind is still brisk and the TV forecasters are telling us they’ll subside sometime this afternoon or evening.

It cannot settle down quickly enough.

Thank you, firefighters. You are heroes in every sense of the word.

***

There. That all said — with great sincerity and respect — I want to share a nasty “fantasy” I’m feeling.

The other evening, with the wind screaming just outside our RV, I had this nightmare scenario. We’re about a quarter-mile south of a high-speed freight rail line. Trains roar past us day and night. The TV weathermen and women tell us about the sparks generated by trains and the potential for starting fires.

The nightmare goes like this: We’re lying in bed. Someone knocks on our fifth wheel door. We open it. The park hosts tell us we have 10 minutes to vacate our spot and get as far away from an approaching fire that has just ignited along the rail line to our north.

Don’t laugh! Please!

I am now thinking it might be appropriate for my wife and me to come up with a 10-minute evacuation drill in case someone knocks on the door in the middle of the night.

Either that or we’ll pack it all up on our own time — and head to the next place.

The latter event is far more likely to occur than the first one.

environmental news, local news

Stay safe, firefighters … and thank you

I’ve already posted a recent blog item that talks a bit about the value of prayer as the Texas Panhandle battles through this latest punishing drought.

I feel the need now to offer a word of support, thanks and good wishes for some men and women, many of whom are volunteering their time to protect us from raging flames.

We’re under an extreme fire alert today and likely for the next couple of days — at least — because of high winds and the intense drought.

My wife and I can see plumes of smoke to our north and west at this very moment. They are fires that have erupted in this hideous wind storm. But dozens — maybe hundreds — of firefighters have donned their gear and have taken on the flames.

You know — if you read this blog regularly — about my admiration for emergency responders. Police, firefighters and medical personnel are at the top of my list of heroic individuals who — and I believe this firmly — do not get enough demonstrations of love and respect from those of us they protect.

Here’s something else to ponder: Many of those firefighters and emergency medical personnel are volunteers. They have day jobs for which they get paid so they can put beans on the table. When the fire alarms go off in their rural communities, they rush into action.

This by no means diminishes the value we should place on the professional responders who answer the call as well. They, too, are among the few of us who when danger erupts run toward it, not away from it.

Many of them are hard at work as I write these few words. My wife, puppy and I are comfortable in our home on wheels, the RV that is parked at a campground near Rick Husband Amarillo International Airport.

For that I am thankful and grateful for the men and women who are doing their damndest to keep us all safe from the flames.

local news

Puppy Tales, Part 47

I’m kicking myself at this very moment. Toby the Puppy and I went for a walk on this wind-whipped Texas Panhandle day across the RV park where we’re holed up for the time being.

We walked to our east toward a wire fence. We saw a horse grazing near the fence. I thought, “Oh, let’s go see the horse.” I said something out loud to Toby, whose ears perked up and he started looking for the equine critters.

He spotted the horse, a young gelding, near the fence line.

Toby pulled real hard on his leash, wanting to rush toward the beast.

We approached the horse. I reached across the fence. The horse inched toward my outstretched hand. I began stroking his snout.

I had picked up Toby at this point, trying to settle him down just a bit.

Then I looked a little bit away and noticed a younger horse sauntering toward us. He came up close … as in real close.

Then came the moment that makes me want to kick myself. I didn’t have a camera in my hand to record Toby and his latest young best friend going nose to nose for a brief get-acquainted encounter.

For just a brief moment, I thought Toby — who fancies himself to be much larger than he really is — was just a bit skittish at this much-larger critter sticking his face close to the puppy’s face.

Toby got over his nerves. He extended his nose toward the horse. They got along just fine.

Then we walked away.

I am hoping for a return meeting. I also hope when it occurs I’ll be prepared to record it for the rest of the world to see.

local news, State news

Happy Trails, Part 82

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I have to credit a fellow recreational vehicle camper for this term, but I have come down with a case of the “hitch itch.”

It strikes me whenever we’ve been parked for a length of time, yet the open road beckons us. It is beckoning my wife and me. Thus, I get the “hitch itch,” or the “itch” to hook our fifth wheel RV to the bed of our pickup and hit the road.

The cure for the itch will come quite soon as we head out on another road trip. It will be an intrastate journey, keeping us inside Texas for its length.

It will be a lengthy trip.

Our plans are to make ample use of three state parks, which is our RV campsite of choice. We have a Texas Parks & Wildlife park pass, which waives our entrance fees into any state-run park in Texas. There happens to be a lot of ’em. They’re everywhere! They’re all well-run, well-maintained and well-groomed.

They’re also inexpensive!

We’ll be heading to San Angelo State Park to start off. A couple of days later we’ll shove off for Lockhart State Park south of Austin for several days. Then we drive to Village Creek State Park just north of Beaumont for a brief visit before winding our way back to Amarillo — with a stop in the Metroplex to visit our precious granddaughter and her parents.

This “hitch itch” strikes periodically. Frankly, we suffer from it more than we don’t. We have enjoyed this lifestyle so much that we want keep enjoying it for as long as humanly possible — health permitting.

To date, we both enjoy good health. We both have our wits. We enjoy the open road. Toby the Puppy is a serious road warrior as well.

The only nagging “health problem” we cannot eradicate — nor do we want to get rid of it — is that hitch itch.

It will disappear the moment we hook it all up and hit the road.

State news

Happy Trails, Part 81

SHERMAN, Texas — My wife and I have been recreational vehicle owners for about three years.

We have joked in the past while we have traveled that we have arrived “home” when we return to where our RV has been parked.

Then came the realization sometime today. We spent some time visiting with our granddaughter and her parents. Then we called it a day and returned home.

Except this time it’s no throw-away line, or good-natured joke.

We understand that as of three days ago, we no longer own a home attached to the ground.

Our former home is now in someone’s hands. I was half-expecting to feel just a tad lost. It hasn’t happened. I don’t expect it to happen. If it does, then my hope is that it’s just a feeling that passes by quickly. I’ve been known to feel such emotional tugs; they come and they go.

As of this moment, though, we are feeling strangely liberated. Neither of us has gone through this kind of change of life. We’ve always been tethered to property. I spent a couple of years in the Army and moved around a little bit: Fort Lewis, Wash., to Fort Eustis, Va., to Vietnam, back to Fort Lewis — and then home. Uncle Sam always looked over my shoulder to ensure that I would get to my next place on time.

This is different. We’re on our own. We have no deadlines. No timetable.

We have instead the open road.

Pretty damn cool.

business news

Happy Trails, Part 80

McKINNEY, Texas — I know you’ve heard it said that “Growing old ain’t for the faint-hearted.”

To which I say, “Phooey!”

It’s not bad at all if you’re in reasonably good health and you have plenty of adventures awaiting you along some still-unknown path. It also provides you with small — but still pleasant — surprises along the way.

My wife and I had a hankerin’ for a taco. So, we pulled into a fast-food taco joint in this bustling North Texas community. We ordered our food.

Then the young man quoted us a price for our order, then blurted out a second price, which was less than the first price. “Didn’t you say it was another amount,” I asked, “and then you’re charging me less?” “Yep,” he said. “What’s with the discount?” I inquired.

“Because I think you’re just a cool dude,” he said.

Hah, hah, hah.

I got the ticket and then looked at it. “Senior discount” was typed next to a $1.19 substraction from our taco order.

My first thought was to tell the young man that he could have replaced “cool” with “old” in front of “dude” and I wouldn’t have taken a lick of offense at it. I let it go.

I just wanted to post this little blog item to proclaim that growing older isn’t a bad thing at all, given that we are still able to enjoy many of the fruits of advancing age.

Surprises like this are just part of the deal.

Pretty cool.

local news

Happy Trails, Part 79

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LAKE ARROWHEAD STATE PARK, Texas — As the saying goes: There’s a first time for everything.

Now that we’ve stipulated that truism, I hereby disclose that for the time in my life, or my wife’s life or in our life together — which covers more than 46 years — we no longer are tethered to a physical address. We no longer have a house we can call “home,” a place that sits on terra firma.

Our mail goes to a post office box. Our home at this very moment sits on four wheels and it follows along behind a pickup truck.

We closed on the sale of our house this morning. We said goodbye to the place we called home for more than 21 years.

My wife and I — along with Toby the Puppy — are officially footloose. Fancy free? Not really.

For the past several weeks I have taken great joy in seeing the faces of those who ask us about our plans once we sell the house: We look at each other and say, occasionally in unison: We don’t have any plans.

This is where our retirement journey has taken us. We now are doing what we want to do on our own time and on our own terms.

After signing the papers that closed on the sale of our house, we hooked the truck up to our fifth wheel and headed southeast along U.S. 287. We’re going to spend the next few days visiting our granddaughter, her parents, her brothers and her other grandparents.

We’re going to look around the Dallas Metroplex for a place to park our RV. Then we’ll counsel with each other. We’ll return to Amarillo for a while longer, park our RV at the park where we’ve been living for the past few weeks.

Then we plan — eventually, but likely quite soon — to decide where we’ll haul our home on wheels to set up our next temporary residence.

But you see, this vagabond existence upon which we’ve embarked fills us with great joy and a certain sense of relief from the trials and travails of “traditional home ownership.”

We intend to travel. Yes, this new life has been a dream of ours for quite a number of years. We have wanted to see much of North America while hauling an RV. We have seen a good bit of already, but there’s about 7.5 million square miles that are beckoning us. Will we see all of them? I won’t guarantee we can do that.

We intend to give it our best shot.

Yes, we’ll resettle. We need to determine the precise location. That, too, will come in due course. But … hey, what’s the hurry?

local news

Happy Trails, Part 77

This blog enables me to discuss any topic I wish. Thus, this Happy Trails series has fulfilled that need for me.

This post is intended to tell you about a huge change that awaits my wife, Toby the Puppy and me. We are about to become officially fully mobile. I won’t use the term “homeless,” because our home now sits on four wheels and we pull it behind our pickup.

In just a few weeks, my wife and I are going to signs some papers that turn over our house to someone else. We will in very short order no longer own that southwest Amarillo structure we’ve called home for more than 21 years.

We vacated the house this past autumn, living full time in our fifth wheel RV. The house went on the market in late January. It got a lot of showings and then we got an offer. We countered the offer, spent a sleepless night and then decided to accept it.

There you go. Done.

So now our retirement journey will take us somewhere else in due course.

You know already we intend to relocate in North Texas. Our plan is to move nearer to our precious granddaughter, who is growing way too rapidly to suit her grandmother and me. We don’t have a precise landing place just yet. We’ll make that determination eventually.

You see, the beauty of this retirement life my wife and I have chosen is that we are able to remain somewhat flexible.

For my entire 68 years on this Earth, I’ve always had a roof over my head. Even though we will be without a roof attached to a house planted on the ground, we shall remain covered and out of the elements. The difference for us will be able to haul our roof with us as we hit the road for this or that unknown destination.

I posted an item on this blog about the travail of disconnecting our telephone land line. We have gotten through that transition with a minimum of angst.

My strong hunch is that we’re going to get past this next obstacle with comparable ease as well.

But … this is a big step on our ongoing journey.

We are ready.