Travels with The Rayman

This is our second virgin voyage.  We aren’t counting the first one because we were just moving The Dog House (TDH) from the lot from which it haled to our dirt lot space that we pay $50/month to use.  No.  We didn’t count that trip.

We are now headed north then east from San Luis Obispo to Ridgecrest, CA.  And immediately it occurs to me that there should be a help line.  A    1 800 number that neophytes like us can call to ask such questions as, does the generator need to run when we are driving?  Why does TDH lean now that we have filled the gas tank?  and what can be done about it anyway?  Yes.  RVing is a total and complete adventure full of untold surprises.

I just sat down again.  By that I mean, when the Rayman (my husband) turned the corner, a clothe wine carrier holding 6 bottles, followed gravity (or was it centrifugal force) and broke out of the closet which fortunately was not too far from the floor and unceremoniously landed while simultaneously making an awful racket.  Figuring history would repeat itself if I reinstalled in in the closet, I had to wedge them between the bed and the coach and that is that.

But I digress.

Perhaps there is an 800 number to call.  I will investigate when I have a signal.  Currently I am not joined at the hip to the internet.

California is drying up.  There is not a blade of grass that is green as far as the eye can see.  And the eye can see a lot.  The vistas are fabulous.  Brown but fabulous.  The drought persists like an unwanted plague.  No medicine can cure it.  Only rain and that is a very distant memory.

Jumping ahead, I must inform my dear readers that my knuckles are permanently white, I fear.  That is because I just got out from the behind the wheel after driving for about 1 hour and 15 minutes on some of the worst freeway known to man, in heavy traffic ladened with big rigs.  Didn’t know I would be able to see eye-to-eye with the drivers.  Tattoos on the truck drivers (Mother, Bob Loves Ann, a replica of the American flag etc.) can be observed by the passenger.  Never by the driver because when you drive TDH, all concentration must be exercised on focusing on the road.  Scratch your foot, and you risk ploughing down an embankment.  Look for the radio and you may run into the car to your left.  Rayman made an astute observation that he is not sure which is worse.  Being the driver or the passenger.  Oh, and did I mention the wind?  We have been experiencing 20-30 mph winds.  A few times, I thought for sure I was going to fall from the freeway and land upside down in someone’s back yard.  It is harrowing.  No one told us about this.  I want my money back.  Perhaps when the hysteria dies down, I’ll see it differently.  What we need is an 800 number to call for available drivers of the RV.  Then we can take an ambien, let someone else’s shoulders get sore from scrunching them as the miles add up as we count sheep while in repose on the bed.  One can fantasize.

We are currently traveling about 30 miles per hour going straight up hill over Techachapi Pass.  I am pretty sure I can hear the gas racing through the engine netting us about 5 mpg.  The good news is that we aren’t getting pushed around by the wind.  The bad news besides the loss of fuel efficiency is that we may not reach our destination (90 miles away) before midnight.  It is currently 3 p.m.  I do not exaggerate when I report that virtually every moving vehicle on the freeway is going faster than we are, even other RVs.  Really, people, they should require new RV drivers to take a course in the Art of RV Driving and Other Non-sensical Activities.

And finally, after Rayman assumed the position (not that position, the driver’s seat), he started passing things, meaning loaded big rigs.  And about the time he started to get over in our lane (slow lane), I cried out, “THE CAR.  THE CAR.”   This caused panic on his part and he said, “WHAT CAR?”.  I yelled, “OUR HONDA.  IT’S BEHIND US.  YOU’RE GOING TO HIT THAT TRUCK.”  He replied, “I CLEARED THAT TRUCK BY A MILE.”  And this back and forth was repeated about 3 times until I finally got it through my thick head that he did know what he was doing.  Whew.  And it was at that point, out of sheer exhaustion, that I called Beau, pulled him up on my lap and I fell asleep.

But really, I wonder what we can get for this rig?