Day 1

OK we’re not new to traveling ... I mean in the course of our 30 years together we’ve had tents, a motorhome, and two trailers. Not to mention hundreds, if not thousands, of car, plane and train trips. There is a saying (that I refuse to use here) about monkeys and footballs that perfectly describes our first day in our new Casa de Gato (Cougar) 30ft. trailer. Originally scheduled to leave Bend around 8 AM heading east to Boise Idaho ... normally a pleasant 6 hour drive through the stark eastern Oregon high desert landscape.

No left turn signal! Nuts. Thought this problem was resolved by the dealer days ago. See Jill... normally a bright, cheerful traveling companion... dejected but not yet on the verge of tears.

Four hours later, after talking in crayon with knuckle-dragging techs at the dealership... we are off!!! See Jill smile.

Learned quickly that the Gato is more responsive to wind than our previous shorter and lighter trailer. Load seems heavy but can’t tell until we finally find a scale outside Ontario Oregon (22,000 loads of Onions shipped in 2009 ... Billboard). We’re right on the high end 14,000 pounds.

Most people think of Oregon as a green, wet, lush place. Well it is, or at least the western third is, but most of Oregon looks like the short views in the attached video.

Wind and late start means we break two of our inviolable rules... don’t drive after dark and know where you’re going! Seems simple huh? It’s dark by the time we reach the Idaho border ... I-84, lots of trucks, speed limit 75, we’re running about 65. Whoosh... the trucks suck the air out from under the trailer ... it’s what NASCAR drivers call being “loose”. It’s what I call white-knuckle driving.

Jill’s got the computer on her lap looking for an RV park. I’m politely grumbling something to the effect that I thought, as the navigator, she should have taken care of this long ago (like while we’re waiting for the taillight to be fixed?) In her defense, the site she had contacted was not answering their phone. In the end she gets a spot in a park that’s on the faaaar side of town, through shopping centers, side streets, alleys, (I think we actually went down a railroad track at one point), several wrong turns (no address in the GPS??? Navigator... I sniff..harrumph) all while guiding 50 feet of steel and fiberglass.

By now we’re not speaking... she’s hopeful... I’m expecting the worst. The ‘park” turns out to be a welfare refuge with lots of permanent guests (you can tell they’re permanent when the have hay bails around the base of their units as insulation). It’s dark. Hard to see the tiny row signs. The only light is from flat panel TVs leaking through grimy camper windows hunched on the backs of ‘76 Chevy’s with Harleys parked alongside.

We finally get parked. Struggle with all the paraphernalia needed to hook up electricity, water, sewer. Jill breaks a latch on a cabinet and I fracture the seat pan on the dinette. I open a bottle of Pinot and slug down three quarters of it before Jill gets some sort of EMERGENCY TOXIC RUBBER TURKEY AND GRAVY out of the microwave. We eat in silence. A good night’s sleep will help.