We’ve been driving for a while now. Days. A week to be exact. It’s a different world out here. A world that consists of long haul truckers, rest stops and wasabi nuts. At first, you don’t notice it. But after a while, you get a lay of the land. You figure out the normal. For the most part, you quickly figure out where you can defecate. Where you can urinate. Our new normal? RV parks. Sounds pretty doesn’t it? It’s a ‘park’. There must be trees and grass. Kids frolicking. Perhaps some bbq action and socializing amongst fellow RV’ers. Share a few brews after a long day on the road. Not so. A dusty, sandy, dirty parking lot. There is no park. There are no kids. No frolicking. But there are a lot of massive RV’s. All with hookups to the sewer. (You only get a sour smell some of the time). But on a more positive note, some tidbits from the past week:
Food on the road consists of Corn Nuts, water and wasabi nuts. The latter is one my favourite food groups. You see, when you’re driving, a lot, you get bored. When you get bored, you eat. If you overdose on wasabi nuts, you quickly realize what you are doing (eating out of boredom) and you lay off the wasabi. For a few hours.
Urinal heights are an interesting find. Back in the Great North there must be a standard for minimum urinal height. Very important for someone that is 6’4″. I am finding urinal heights are decreasing as I head south. My aim ain’t too bad. But when you tinkle from my height, the rebound onto the chins is not so pleasant.
What is it with toilets right next to the shower stalls? Everyone knows my poop smells like roses, but when I’m showering and someone next to me is performing numero deux, I’m not too enthused. And this arrangement, of toilets next to shower stalls, seems standard practice in RV parks.
“How big is your rig?” A common question when we’re calling ahead to campgrounds & RV parks. Ashley and I are always stumped by this question. We don’t have a ‘rig’. Our current answer: ‘We have a tiny trailer’. Doesn’t seem to get us a discount but seems they understand.
Driving east thru Texas today. A massive sign at a trucker stop read, in alternating words; “Food. Fuel. Restaurants. Cash. Mechanic. Burritos.” Burritos? Really? How did we get from mechanic to burritos? We didn’t stop.
Tomorrow, onto Louisiana. Looking forward to Texan BBQ, jerky (& guns?)…
Tombstone was a great place to visit. Small. Quant. Touristy yet perfect for a day. A gold rush town that went bust at one point. Lots of booze. Lots of hookers. And lots of gold in it’s hay day.
Texas BBQ; Beef brisket, Pork ribs & sauce to cover it all. Meat. Meat sweats. Meat naps. Anything you could ever wish for.