THE ROLLING BASEMENT

We headed north. The adventure continues ………..

When you have a tow vehicle behind your motor home that vehicle becomes a convent place to store “STUFF”. I use my Tracker as sort of a “rolling basement” and I use the back seat for storing things that I am too lazy to put back in the compartments of the coach. The further we go the more “STUFF” we seem to accumulate and the deeper the “STUFF” gets in the back seat of the Tracker. Here is a brief inventory of “STUFF” that we had accumulated in the back seat.
One satellite dish with stand and all assorted parts including 100 feet of coax.
One shovel (the handle is broken about half way down but it’s still handy)
One ax (the handle is loose and cracked and the blade is very dull but its nice for firewood as long is the wood is rotten.)
100 feet of nylon rope. (It was coiled up but it is now tangled with the satellite dish and the coax and the shovel, the ax, and the other “stuff”)
50 feet of garden hose with a flattened hose bib. (I can fix that later)
A pizza box with two slices of anchovy pizza left over in it. (I was gonna eat that later but it is now petrified)
Several sticks of firewood (left by another camper)
Six pieces of 2 x 8 lumber used for leveling the coach when we park when the jacks sometimes dont work..
Assorted other “STUFF” too numerous to mention and too valuable to throw away.
I eased the coach into the campground and we set up for the night.
“Honey, hook up the dish so I can watch Wheel of Fortune. You know how I love to watch that show and the only channel we can get on the antenna is in French about cow husbandry and I want to see “Wheel”.
“No problem darling, I’ll get it done in a few minutes”
I opened the passenger door and slid the seat forward. Somewhere under the “stuff” was the satellite dish. I leaned over and tried to lift the “stuff “ with my right hand so I could remove the satellite with my left hand. I squatted down beside the car for better leverage and as I got the “stuff” lifted the first “skeeter” bit me between my belt and the bottom of my shirt. He was one of those famous humming bird size “skeeters” that only takes a pint of blood. I swatted at him with my free hand, lost my balance and my feet slid under the Tracker and I wound up in the seated position with my right hand trapped under about fifty pounds of “stuff”. In disgust I laid my head on the seat trying to compose myself cursing under my breath. About then a fellow camper came by. He assumed that I was praying and he knelt beside me and bowed his head. I waited until he said Amen and left before I continued cursing under my breath. About then the “skeeters” came back in force and they used attack plan “B”. That is where they all alight at once and start eating. My right hand was still trapped and starting to bleed and I tried to fend them off with my left hand with little effect. About that time Willa opened the door of the coach.
“Who are you waving at dear”?
“Why are you working on the car”?
“You shouldn’t sit on the ground, you will get your clothes dirty”.
“You better hurry up because Wheel comes on in about five minutes”.
“Why are you cursing”?
The answer I gave cannot be printed so I will have to leave this part of the story out. It is safe to assume that her response was to slam the coach door hard enough to knock the lens off the outside light and to get me a night on the sofa and a can of cold beans for supper.
I eventually retrieved my right hand from under the ''Stuff'' and the scratches are healing nicely now. Willa is starting to talk to me again also ..

The adventure continues ...... going NORTH TO ALASKA
Seajay and Willa