Ricky Dandelion, Whatcom County’s foremost authority on guaranteed bad luck in farming, fishing, and camping, had just caught a break. A distant relative had passed away and left Ricky a 5th wheel pop-out trailer. This was indeed an upgrade from his converted school bus camper. Both Ricky and his wife, Venice, were giddy with excitement over the thought of finally being able to camp in style.
“Imagine Venice. A real queen-size bed and a full kitchen. Plenty of inside storage and an entertainment center. You can cook us all my favorite meals while listening to your Stan Katz and His Polka Madness, CDs”
“Yes, and I’ve dreamed about a bathroom that is warm and we can use without the water dumping out onto the ground. We will actually be allowed to stay in a campground for more than one night.” Venice sat in her rocker staring into the flames of her imagination, dreaming of this new opportunity.
“I’ll need to go to Camper’s World tomorrow to get the truck set up for a 5th wheeler,” Ricky said. “It shouldn’t cost too much.”
The next day, after having a new wiring harness installed for the trailer lights and brakes and a 5th wheel hitch adapted to fit the bed of his truck, Ricky was able to drive away for only $2200.00. His face looked a little peaked and his attitude was somewhat subdued.
The next weekend, the Dandelions set off on their trip over the mountains and across the state to pick up their new RV from the estate. Ricky had his clip-on sunglasses attached to his bifocals and his Cold Storage baseball cap pulled down tight on his head. His driver’s door window was down with his arm resting out in the wind as he drummed his fingers on the door frame.
Venice, in her flowered cotton farm dress, lay cattywampus against the passenger door. She wore a blackout mask over her eyes, her head was tilted back and her mouth was wide open. As far as Ricky could tell, she was asleep.
Many hours later and many wasted miles getting lost, the Dandelions drove up the long gravel road on the ranch property, it wasn’t long before a farmhouse and barn came into view. Ricky started hyperventilating from excitement.
“Wake up, Venice, we’re here,” he said, shaking her shoulder. She snorted and sat upright.
A man in cowboy boots and a sweat stained Stetson stepped through the screened front door of the farmhouse and approached the pickup. Ricky opened his door and climbed out.
“Carter,” the man said.
“No, she can walk. It’s been a long 500 miles,” Ricky answered.
“My “name” is Carter,” he repeated. “You here for the trailer? It’s out in the side building. Walk this way.”
Ricky watched him for a moment but found that bowing his legs and walking with a swagger caused his pants to drop even lower below his underwear line. Venice seemed to find new life and her face blushed following the handsome cowhand.
Carter unlocked and pushed open the outbuilding door. There it sat, not quite as new as the Dandelions had envisioned, but nevertheless, a 28 foot, 5th wheel trailer which was theirs if they wanted it. It was dusty from lack of use but as they walked around the perimeter, they found it to be in decent shape and much better than his converted bus camper. As a bonus, the RV was completely furnished with bedding, kitchen necessities, a generator, and outside furniture. It was a red-letter day.
Ricky gladly accepted the trailer and signed the paperwork for the estate lawyer. Carter then helped him attach it to his pickup.
Getting the pin box on the trailer, lined up with the dual-jaw hitch plate on his truck bed was something Ricky was inexperienced at. He looked through the rear window as Carter motioned him back. Accidentally putting his right foot on the throttle instead of the brake, the truck lunged backward connecting the truck and trailer with a crash. Ricky’s hat was later found somewhere in the back seat.
After raising the leveling jacks under the trailer and doing a final walk-around, Ricky and Venice drove slowly away from the farm but not before Venice had her photo taken with Carter. Ricky noted that she seemed to be hugging him excessively tight.
“How about we pull over in the next town for dinner, Venice. Maybe we can find a side street to park on for the night.”
The closest town was once thriving with mining and lumbermills, but now was half boarded up. They did find a cafe and a shuttered hardware store parking lot to park in for the night.
After a filling meal, the Dandelions walked back to the 5th wheel and for the first time, Ricky opened the pop-out. This gave them much more room. Ricky flicked the rest of the switches on the power console. A small monitor screen showed the propane, fresh water, gray water, and black water levels.
“Look at this, Venice. They never emptied the holding tanks after their last trip. They’re almost full. We’re going to have to find a place to dump.”
The next morning as the sun crested the surrounding hill tops, Ricky climbed out of the queen size bed after a very satisfying night’s sleep. They once again went to the Cafe for breakfast. Afterwards, walking back to the pickup, Ricky noticed something odd.
“Look at the tires on the trailer, Venice. They’re nearly bald.”
All four of the trailer tires had unusual wear patterns on them. Luckily, the town still had a tire shop. Ricky and Venice towed the trailer to the tire parking lot. The owner came out.
“Yah, the reason your tires are worn is because the trailer axles aren’t in alignment. These potholed roads around here will do that. We can fix it right for you.”
Ricky and Venice drove away from the tire shop four hours later with four new tires and freshly aligned axles for only $1700.00. Their faces looked a little peaked and their attitudes were somewhat subdued. To save some money, they did stop at a small store to buy lunch making materials.
The roads in that part of the state were in bad shape. The towns were far apart. When they pulled over at a wide spot in the road for lunch, Ricky opened the pop-out so Venice could easily get to the refrigerator and the counters.
“This is lovely,” Venice said as she sat down on the sofa at the pop-out dining table. “A nice vase of flowers would look lovely here on the table.”
“It is nice, Venice. We’ve got a long drive home. Let’s hit the road.”
They climbed back into the pickup and continued down the narrow road. Less than a quarter mile later, there was a loud crash and the pickup shook.
“What was that, Venice?” Ricky yelled.
Venice looked back through her passenger door side mirror.
“Two garbage cans and a mailbox. We didn’t retract the pop-out.”
The pop-out was difficult to retract, now that it was slightly bent. Ricky gave the homeowner $30.00 to replace his mailbox and they continued their journey home. His face looked a little peaked and his attitude was somewhat subdued.
The road they traveled on went through a large native American reservation. The roads were not maintained, and the small towns were far from each other.
“I am uncomfortable with those holding tanks being so full and sloshing around on the bumpy backroads, Venice. They could crack or have a mounting bracket break. There’s no one around out here and I don’t know where the next village is. I’m going to pull over and crack open the dump valve on the holding tanks to let them empty as we go down the road.”
Venice stared at him with a sour look on her face. “Ricky are you serious?” she asked.
There was a wide spot next to the road and Ricky pulled into it. The road ahead curved around a hill and went out of sight. Ricky jumped from the truck, removed the cap from the discharge valve and opened up both the gray and black water tanks. The sewage started flowing onto the ground, so Ricky jumped back into the pickup, put it in gear, and drove down the road, around the curve and right into a small reservation town. A town with a tribal policeman sitting in his car who was waiting for speeders. A policeman who couldn’t believe that someone was dumping their holding tanks on the street of his town.
Ricky’s choice was a $500.00 fine or a return on a later date for a court appearance. He paid the fine. His face looked a little peaked and his attitude was somewhat subdued as he drove the rest of the way home.
Now the 5th wheel sits under cover by his barn. Depending upon who is angry, it is either used as a man-cave or a she-shed. The converted school bus RV is parked behind the barn and is used as a hen house. Plans are currently underway for a fishing trip to Canada this coming summer, but first Ricky wants to save up at least $5000.00 to take along, just in case something might go wrong.
Personally, I am thinking $10,000 would be a safer bet.
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