Subscriptions are LIVE!!

It seems ubiquitous.  SUBSCRIBE HERE.  Like most things, simple is rarely simple.  Anyway, thanks to Justin (my middle son, the “Nerd” (said truly with so so so much love and admiration))  we now have a subscription option. Click on the “SUBSCRIBE” button at the top of the page and enter your email address.  Easy peasy, as they say.  Behind the scenes, your email address is being entered into the Mail Chimp server.  Every time I post an update, it notifies Mail Chimp and Mail Chimp notifies you.  I promise not to post too much... an easy promise since the goal of life right now does not include sitting in front of the computer too much (just enough is fun as I get to chat and share my life with y’all (wow, southern stuff is contagious... next I will be calling all my friends Bubba!).

SO... Please SUBSCRIBE.

PS... Leave comments!  Let me know you are out there.  Part of what I am doing here is taking you along for the ride.  Let me know your thoughts.  Let me know your suggestions. I look forward to hearing from you.  Thanks! 

Savannah to Florida SHOULD be easy

I left Savannah feeling happy and thankful for such a good visit.  I was tired from so much walking and I think from absorbing so much information in such a short time.  But it was all good.  I got the car hitched without a hitch (wah wah... sorry, I couldn’t resist) and off I went.  I got on the highway and went to switch on cruise control ready to roll down the highway.  But there was no cruise control.  That really sucks.  The gas pedal on the beast requires a lot of effort to push... for some reason the spring is very tight.  That gives you a lot of control in tight situations, but on the highway it gets old fast.  I figured it just needed to reset so I would stop sooner for gas and see what happened.  I stopped, filled up and when I started again I still had no cruise control, but I also had no windshield wipers.  Now that is not particularly safe should there be a heavy rain.  I kept driving but called Newmar service.  They needed my vehicle number.  Having my ID card on my phone I could give them my VIN but that wasn’t what they needed to see the specifications of my rig.  Barreling down the road was not a good spot to go back and find it.  So I had to wait. 

Next rest stop I got the number and called back again.  After 10 minutes on hold, I decided to hit the road and keep holding.  Finally they answered and best guess was to try turning off the battery and see if it resets.  Stop at the next stop, turn off the battery, turn it back on after a bit... no change.  Not wanting to lose too much time, I start driving again and call again.  This time I got a gentleman who seemed to know more.  He thought it might be a controller board; a fix that required going to a freight liner repair shop.  By now I was close to Jacksonville.  Luckily there was one there, so I called ahead.  They said it was first-come-first-served so come on in.  I did and luckily there was only one truck ahead of me.  I went into the shop and gave them all my info.  I had to unhitch the car and park it out front.  The guy assured me it shouldn’t take long.  I went out 10 minutes later to get my iPad and the coach was already taken away.  GOOD!   

As I was walking back to the waiting room, the same guy stops me and low and behold... no problems.  The cruise control was working.  The wipers were working.  Figures!!!  He said they wanted to check to see what might have been the problem.  It should be minutes!  OK.  Back to the waiting room.  30 minutes later I went back to ask if I could get my iPad and was directed to my coach, sitting outside on the opposite side from where I left it... with no one working on it.  I got my iPad and went back to ask.  He said the guy just clocked in on it and was starting now.  It should only be... you guessed it... a few minutes.  I was feeling like I was on the set of the movie “The Money Pit” where the answer to everything was “two weeks” but here it was “a few minutes.”  I asked him about that and he laughed.  That was helpful. 

Anyway, they were super nice despite the few minutes thing.  Over three hours later they had found nothing and sent me on my way.  They did do one recall so I guess that was good, but that meant I was getting to my next destination in the dark.  Having to back into my space in the dark was not something I was looking forward to doing.  For the record, I did it.  Took a bit of work; it’s not my strongest driving skill in the RV.  The many... MANY... tracks in the sand attest to that, but I am here parked in Florida under the trees ready to enjoy a few days of R&R (life is so hard)...

Savannah - a hot sticky jewel in the South

Last time I went to Savannah I was just passing through.  We stopped in the City Market and we walked down to the River Walk.  Problem is that there are two hotels that flank the part we went to, so I thought that was it.  Well folks, it goes on and on... and on and on.   I used to love going into all the shops.  My visits were always focused on what I might like to buy and bring home.  Not so much anymore since there is no room in the new “home.”  Now I like to go into stores that have nice, original things.  It’s kind of like going to a museum.  When the boys were young we took them to FAO Schwartz in New York and told them it was a toy museum; “you can look but you can’t buy.”  Well, that’s the way I am now... and yes Mom, I still put my hands in my pockets as soon as I go into any store with breakables.  It cracks me up, but I can’t help it.  My kids do it too. 

I have been off sugar for quite some time now, so walking into the numerous non-stop candy stores was also like walking into a museum.  You can look, but not touch! Boo boo.   

I especially liked the street behind the River Walk.  It connects the main part of the city to the River Walk buildings.  I thought the bridges linking the River Walk Buildings to street level were pretty fascinating.

SO... Savannah.  Besides humid, I would say, quaint and beautiful, quite southern in its architecture and charm.   I loved all the ornate iron work on the houses and the abundance of greenery was amazing.  When the town was laid out, there were four squares; parks in the middle of town.  Then as the town grew, the parks grew as well.  Ultimately there were 24, then it shrank back down to 22.  Each of them is beautiful.  Old trees, cobblestones, brick, fountains, and monuments.  Each offers something different.  But as we chronicle the stupid things I do, not knowing this, I parked next to the first square I came to.  Excellent!  I will remember that I parked next to the park.  That will work.  That WILL work, right?

Much like New Orleans, Savannah is still rocking at night.  First of all, you can drink on the streets and people do drink.  A lot.  A whole lot.  It was pretty rowdy on a Monday night at 9pm.  There was even a tour that was designed for drinking.  All the people faced the middle and pedaled to power the carriage.  Then they stopped at a bar every few minutes.  I don’t think those folks were hearing much of what the “tour guide” was telling them.  They were too busy singing along with the music.  They were very very drun,k.  But me, I toured.  I walked.  I walked some more.  I went to a club (bleh, not even worth writing about) and I came out at 11 o’clock.   So now I have to find my car.  Well, every way you walk there is a park.  Thank heavens for Siri.  SHE remembered exactly where I parked and told me how to get there.

I went on a ghost tour in a horse drawn carriage my first night there.  That was fun.  It gave me a feel for things and I got to hear some fun stories.  The next morning, I did the same thing but it was a history tour.  The combination was perfect.  I got to hear the facts and the legends... and I loved how they melded.  Later when I was just walking around, I sat at the gates of the Colonial Cemetary.  A couple was walking by and remarked on the unique designs in the brick.  I told them they were designed to glisten so they looked like water - spirits don’t like to cross water.  Haha... they loved it and asked me about the cemetary.  I told them it was one of the originals and that most of the city is built on top of old cemeteries.  This one had a brick wall surrounding it so when one of the generals saw it he thought it was be a great place for the horses.  Problem was the horses got itchy and rubbed the stones knocking them down.  The soldiers didn’t care so they stacked them against the wall.  Then, boys will be boys... they started playing with the stones by changing the engravings.  So here is a great example of their idea of fun...

It doesn’t show perfectly in the picture, but poor Josiah died October 1st 1820.  He was 11 years old.  His wife died almost three years later when she was 17.  A little more than two weeks after Josiah died, their son died... He was 12.  Haha!  That takes talent... or a talented soldier with a strong knife.  ​

The cemetary was beautiful.  Lots more crepe myrtles, but these were smaller than the trees in Atlanta, but still bigger than our bushes.  But these had Spanish moss!  SO pretty.  Did you know, and this is a fact, that spirits don’t like Spanish moss.  All those squares had a public purpose and many were for hangings.  Where there were gallows, there is no Spanish moss.  See, that proves it.  I told you it is hard to separate history from legend.

Walking around, the houses ranged from smaller row homes (sorry, town houses) to larger mansions, some as large as 12,000 square feet.  The streets seem to meander around the squares, at least in the historic district.  But even when I ventured out a bit, the houses were still that southern style... not quite Victorian, but not colonial either.  I guess I would say it was a mixture. Of both.  I loved it.  I loved the feel of it.  As I said, I loved that there were trees everywhere.  That continued into the suburbs as I ventured further.  But the historic district was where the best houses could be found and I just loved walking around seeing them.  Everything smelled really good too!  I finally figured out that it was this flowering tree that smelled so good.  My friend Jim may know what it is and leave a comment.  It was lovely to smell that’s all I do know.

One of the smaller homes... yeah right! 

Line up folks... this one was for sale.

These were the town houses.  I loved them.  So cute and so pretty and so perfectly simple and elegant.

Some houses were more heavily Victorian.

This was originally the horse stall for the Arabian horses.  I guess they wanted them to feel at home.

On the other side of the historic district is Forsyth Park.  It was described to me as “our version of Central Park.”  So I thought that was worthy of a ride.  I drove over and I have to say, it was a park.  There were nice houses around the park, but for the most part it was a park.

Sorry about the tree in the way.  It wasn’t intended but I was shooting from the car.  But you can see.  It’s a park.  A nice park, but nothing super special.

Now here is a “square.”  I think that is so so so much nicer.  The park is better for playing frisbee, but I am not playing frisbee too often these days unless I am with the kids.  So for me alone, I would much rather wander around these squares.  I loved it. 

Each square had something unique based on its purpose way back when.  This square was for the public ovens.  People did not have ovens like we do.  Fires were a huge problem in old Savannah and public ovens were one of the solutions.  This fountain was built on the foundation of one of the ovens and the brick surrounding the oven is actually the original brick from the oven.  Pretty cool.  Another story was that one of the squares had a bell.  It was right near the firehouse and it was the fire bell.  Only problem was there was only one bell and there were 24 squares.  So if you saw a fire near the 24th square, you ran to square 2 and rang the bell 24 times.  Then the fire “truck” went out to square 24 to put out the fire.  More often they were putting out the embers by that time.  Later they came up with a better system.  Have you heard about all the fires Savannah has endured... that’s why!​

Pop quiz... recognize this church?  Picture a feather floating around it.  Picture Tom Hanks eating a box of chocolate.  Yup, it’s the church from the opening scene of Forest Gump.  Yes, Forest, life is like a box of chocolates!

I talked to a bunch of people on Social media while in Savannah.  I got recommendations for which parks and cemeteries to visit and recommendations for restaurants as well.  Only problem on the restaurant front was that it was so humid I had virtually no appetite.  I ate in the morning and then had no desire the rest of the day.  I decided I had to eat in one of the great places Savannah has to offer so I chose to go to lunch at Fox and Fig, a restaurant that only serves “plant based” foods.  It was delicious and everyone that I spoke to later said that I made the perfect choice for a hot humid Savannah day.  It was a small place, not particularly fancy, but it was warm and inviting with a nice, kind of up-scale crowd.​

My Fox Burger was yummy with Shitake “bacon” as an extra.  Yum.  Loved the arugula bite and the pretzel bun.  Nice! 

Just a quick note on the campground.  It was down a windy road that was pretty rural.  Small houses, lots of pine trees, some commercial operations.  At one point I was wondering if A) the directions took me down a wrong road and if so, will I be able to get out without backing up anywhere? (Yes, that has happened) or B) is this campground going to be like one we went to in Florida that was really really really nice... in 1950 when it was built?  Well, I came up to the entrance and I was floored.  It was like an oasis.  It was beautiful!  The people were super nice and helpful as well. 

This is the entrance.  

The pond was lovely. I did not get one of these campsites.  I could have, but I did not want to have to back into a spot, so I needed a pull-through spot.  Sorry I did not get a pic of my set up... I will next time!

Oz Campground - plus why a gay campground

So I just spend two days at a campground called Oz in Unadilla Georgia.  When Peter and I were at another gay campground in Georgia called Roy’s Hideaway, everyone said Oz is better.  So I figured since I was going through Georgia I might as well take the opportunity to go and see what was what.  Well, the folks were right; it was far superior to Roy’s - both the campground and the people.  It was really pretty, very well maintained and laid out well.  The only problem was that they grouped together the tent campers, the RV’s and travel trailers, and the perm sites (the sites that are rented out for the full year and are, for all intents and purposes, the summer homes of the residents... referred to as Perms).

I arrived Saturday afternoon.  Unfortunately, I had one of my “stupid” moments... you know, when you do something really stupid and later can’t quite figure out if you would do it any differently the next time around since you just didn’t know?  Anyway, thinking I was following the instructions I was given, I drove past the cabins, under the trees, etc and unhooked the car near the front of camp.  I then continued down the road and took the next right... but instantly I was concerned... those trees are kind of low, I thought.  But then I remembered some videos complaining about the larger coaches needing more tree pruning and how some campgrounds just don’t take that into consideration.  SO, down the road I go, through the trees and I wind up in an area that was all tents.  Yikes! (and that is not what I really said!) I was definitely not in the right place and I was like the bull in the china closet... and there was no way to keep my hands in my pockets in this china shop, Mom (private joke, but you get the jist).  Well, Mr New RV Driver managed to make a u-turn and not even tap anything.  Not the tents, not the trash cans, not the trees... nothing.  As I finished the turn, there are four people there clapping.  HAHA... evidently they were impressed.  All I wanted was to know where I was supposed to go.  They told me I had overshot the RV area.  Turns out my car was parked right next to where I needed to turn, not at the front of camp as I thought.  Evidently the camp area is way smaller than I thought. Look at the map and you can see... that first “fork” was nowhere near as obvious as it looks on the map, so I thought the turn to the RV part was that first fork.

Anyway, I quickly set up my campsite (I pulled out two chairs, set up my DynaTrap for bugs) and hooked up the water, sewer and electric) and hightailed it to the pool to catch the remainder of the afternoon.  Unlike the campground I love in Pennsylvania, Oz was very low keyed and decidedly not crowded.  There was a nice group of people, men and women, at the pool and everyone was really friendly.  I wound up in the pool for three hours chatting with different people.  Two couples were new to full-timing so that was fun to share all the trials and tribulations that it takes to sell your house, get rid of everything and hit the road.  Plus much talk about planning trips and making your plans “in jello” since you can change you mind and stay or go whenever you want to.  The best thing for me was that lots of the questions I had, they had too.  And they didn’t have answers.  And they didn’t care.  Life now was about figuring it out as you went.  I listened.  I am learning.  It’s good.

Here’s the fun part.  Every person, every single person, said something to the effect of, “OH, are you the guy that pulled the huge rig into the tent area?  Nice job getting out though.”  My desire for fame was not assuaged... at all.  

ut despite my mis-rambling, the campground was lovely.  Two ponds, lots of nice landscaping, a mixture of tropical and desert, an interesting and very effective mix.  Lots of flowering trees, including TONS of in bloom crepemyrtle trees... my favorite, especially in the South where they are more like trees than the bushes that grow in Pennsylvania.  Of course, I did not get enough pictures.  So for that I apologize.  I will get more as I get used to doing this.

Sunday almost everyone went home.  The RV section was empty.  There were some Perms at the pool and one person who was just there for the day.  We struck up a good conversation for a while.  Then I happily sat in the sun and read a book.  That works too.  Going back, it looked very lonely ...

You can also see that it did rain before I got there and the night before I left.  WOW, Georgia soil is bright orange and very clay-rich.

I did have company at one point. but he was a bit quackers!

So some friends have asked me why I like to go to the gay campgrounds.  The answer is pretty simple. First of all, most of them are clothing optional and I enjoy that aspect.  Second, being a gay campground means that I somehow feel like I fit in better when I am there.  It’s not that anyone acts particularly differently, it is just that everyone understands the perspective is somehow different when you are gay and living in a straight world.  I suspect that it is the same for any minority group.  There is just a different type of comfort level.  I don’t know that I necessarily act any differently, but if I want to, I can.  Last thing is pretty much an accepted thing... gay guys know how to have a good time!  They know how to let go... they know how to party.  I guess that’s why there are always straight couples at the gay campgrounds.  They want to have a better time than they will at a non-gay resort and maybe they like being naked too.  Who knows.  There are usually some Lesbians mixed into the group and, while that changes the dynamic a bit, it just adds a bit of a different spice to a great mix of people.  I am sure these are generalizations, and I have been to some that were way less than lovely and have even left one that was just too unkempt and unseemly to stay... but I enjoy a spattering of gay campgrounds mixed in with the rest.

Can I make one more observation as I sit in the next campground in South Carolina, right near Savannah... I am sitting outside typing away.  People have driven by and I raise my head up for each and everyone.  People have walked by and I say hello.  I get virtually no response.  The cars just drive by not looking who is outside and the people look up and say hello then go back to their phones or their own thoughts.  I have been in campgrounds where you can have a bit of a conversation with others and I know there are a lot of people who are very social at all campgrounds, but in a gay campground I say hello to everyone and they cheerfully say hello and our eyes meet and the hello feels genuinely nice.  In a gay campground, few people just drive by... they cruise by... they wave, sometimes they stop.  I have noticed that in towns that have a larger gay population too... Gay men tend to look at everyone, in the eyes, and say hello or at least nod.  It’s a subtle difference, but I suspect that adds to my incredible comfort when I am at a gay campground.  I feel welcome.  I feel like a part of the community, even if it’s only for one or two nights.  The super social part of me really likes that.  And if I am not in the mood, I can always go and chill out inside the Beast... but I just have to say, that I like feeling welcome when I am away from home.  It will be interesting to see how this holds true as I visit more and more campgrounds.

The ride to Savannah was, for some reason, joyous.  I felt really happy and realized that I was not worrying about anything.  That is not usual for me!  It felt really good.  I liked the rural parts better than the big highways, but sometimes you are just trying to get some miles under your belt!

Off I go to start exploring Savannah.  More later...

Driving - aka 🎶 On the Road Again 🎵

So, the first trip, from Oregon to Ukiah to San Diego to Grand Canyon, to Albuquerque and back to PA sounds like it was a real road trip. In many ways it was, but it wasn’t the kind of road trips that I want to consume my retirement.  Carl and I were on a mission... See the kids and get home.  All in three weeks. Getting miles under our belts was the goal.  This trip is different.  This is the first one where I am alone. This is the first one where The Beast is fully loaded with my stuff (lots of my stuff) and the first where the journey is almost as important as the destination.  The “destination” is Justin and Meredith’s for the birth of my first granddaughter (adding to two grandsons from Adam and Aniko).  So to me, this is the first real journey.

So I have to admit that in the post about leaving I lied.  Just a little.  I was anxious.  Pulling the BabyBeast was new to me.  I had only driven it home from the installation of all the hardware and Mark was with me for that journey.  Here, I had hooked it up myself and had to be sure it was ok.  PLUS, I had to pull 50+ feet out of my driveway.  I think that was the scariest part.  But it went ok.

People keep asking me how it is to drive The Beast.  It really is not bad.  It even borders on fun.  It is very easy once you are going.  You are sitting up higher than many trucks.  You have a commanding view of the road.  It is unbelievably quiet.  Really really quiet.  That’s because the engine is 40 feet behind you.  Very little road noise comes through and the only thing you really hear is the whirl of the air conditioner and some squeaks and groans from the whole coach as you go down the road.  I read that traveling in an RV is like subjecting your house to an ongoing earthquake... a big earthquake.  So if The Beast is constantly earthquaking we will allow him some grunts and groans.  Within reason.  I did move some stuff and add some more padding to get rid of some pot rattles, but other than that the packing was pretty effective.  

So I was on the road.  Stopped in traffic at the entrance to the PA Turnpike I was behind a truck.  I had to take a pic.  I thought it was a pretty cool view.  What do you think? 

So off I go.  One thing that I learned from both the gentleman who sold me the coach and from umpteen videos on YouTube is that you have to have your mirrors set right.  Top mirrors show you one mile down the road in the lanes on either side and the convex little mirrors show you up the side of the coach to eliminate your blind spot.  There is also a rear camera.  I kind of used that as a rear view “mirror” before but it was really too close.  Now I really understand that it is made for backing up and for watching you tow vehicle - affectionately referred by those in the know as a “toad” (towed...get it?).   So here I am driving down the first major road with the toad (oooh poetry), scanning my mirrors like a good driver, and I glance down and JUMP... wow that guy is tailgating me!!!   HAHA... it was the TOAD.  Eventually I got used to it but I have to admit that it got me a few more times on the trip.

Time seems to pass relatively well... I listened to tons of songs one day, NPR the next, TED talks on another.  The seat is super duper comfortable and I stop every couple hours to walk and stretch.  The first day I was worried about traffic through PA and Washington, DC., so I only expected to do about 250 miles that first day.  But I hit little traffic in PA. and I hit no traffic in DC... none. Who ever heard of that?  So I kept driving.  After five hours I still felt fine; so I kept driving.  About 7:00pm I stopped at a Walmart, having called ahead to get permission.  It was the perfect end to the day.  10.5 hours of driving but I felt totally fine.  432 miles under my belt and 9.5 average MPG.  Not too shabby considering the size of The Beast and the fact that we were pulling BabyBeast behind us.  I kind of figured that since we are two vehicles I can double the mileage... 19 MPG is not shabby at all.

I am not a particular fan of Walmart, but I have to say this was a particularly beautiful one.  The store itself was super clean and everyone was incredibly friendly... Darlin and Sugar are the endearing way all the women spoke to me; Sir always from the men.  Southern hospitality I guess.  And the nicest thing was that there was a little park and pond right in from of where I was parked.  Who’da thunk?

320 miles the next day took me to a Costco in Augusta Georgia.  I had to stop for prescriptions and decided that even though I could keep going, I didn’t have to.  I am retired.  I don’t have to rush.  Keep repeating that Steven... I am retired.  I don’t have to rush!  So with their kind permission I stayed in their parking lot that night.  Kind permission... “of course, Darlin, no problem... you have a wonderful evening Sugar!”  Haha... honestly.  That’s what she said.  Gotta love it!  No pond, but a nice green border to park against and it was lovely. 

Next day I was off to my first real stop... A gay campground in Georgia called Oz.  Total of 899.6 miles and the local driving took me down to 9.3, but that’s still ok.   More about the campground and gay camping in general in another post, but suffice it to say that it is beautiful, peaceful and relaxing.  Everything it is supposed to be! So far so good.

First time fully loaded...

So I finally got everything packed up and ready to head out.  The Beast was loaded and BabyBeast was hooked in the back. 

Putting the car into true neutral was a task... not hard, but a list to follow.  I am sure that will become more intuitive as time goes on.  I was very excited when I was really ready to roll.  I took a selfie with my (please forgive me for this)... my new selfie stick.  YES, I bought a selfie stick, but it’s pretty cool.  It folds very compact, but it includes a tripod and a remote so I can really be taking better pictures when I want to be in the shot.

Anyway... excited, not even anxious.  Shoot the picture, smiling ear to ear.  I start walking to the coach and realize I am crying.  Not teary... really crying.  Why, I asked.  I am so excited.  And I realized that since February, my life has been consumed with getting ready for this stage of retirement.  Those of you who know me know that when I say consumed, I mean consumed.  I am just a wee bit obsessive when it comes to this kind of thing.  The marvelous part was that my middle son, Justin, was obsessing with me all the way.  We talked everyday about some new thing that one of us thought of or saw online.  He even went to RV dealers and camping stores checking things out from the Albuquerque perspective.  One of my good friends, Mark, has been equally marvelous in helping me weed through the crap that accumulates over a lifetime and throwing away much, saving some, and loading a ton into the Beast.  Shout outs to both of them!!  But here I was.  I am doing it.  I am leaving.  Bye bye house for now.  See you in a couple months.  WOW... it’s real.   And again, if you know me you know that real equals tears!  And they were flowing.  But that was ok.  It was all good tears.

And I was off.  8:30am.  Exactly when I wanted to be on the road.  Perfect!

Compact Parking Only

We bought the Beast in Oregon and had to register it in New Mexico, where my middle son, Justin lives. Because nothing is ever easy, we needed to do this in stages.  While i was there with the Beast we needed to confirm the vehicle identification numbers.  Later, when we would have the title from the original owner (we had to wait until after his loan was paid off and the bank sent the paperwork), Justin would follow up and do the new title work in New Mexico.

When we went to register the Beast in New Mexico they told us to park around the back of the building.  The only places were very clearly marked as "compact only."  The Beast, on the other hand, is clearly not compact at all!  What to do...?  Park where they told us, of course, but take a picture and laugh heartily!

Everything went super smoothly for the registration, or so we thought.  Later when Justin went to do the actual title work, it turned out that the woman who did the inspection wrote the paperwork in green pen.  The office Justin was at this time said it needed to be done in blue pen.  How's that for bureaucracy at its finest?  One wasted day, and a couple weeks until Justin could go back to the original office... and that office accepted the "wrong" color with not a bit of hassle.  Lucky for them since I think Justin may have let them have a piece of his mind that they did not want to get!

All done...  Now we can laugh about the compact spaces AND the green ink.

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry...

Looking for the perfect RV was an interesting project.  I read everything I could to see what was what with different brands.  After reading tons of articles, I decided that Newmar was just the right level for me.  It's basically better-than-entry level to the higher end coaches and I read more glowing reviews than the scathing complaints of other brands.  Knowing I did not want to buy new, I was scanning the various advertisements for the mid-level Newmar Ventana.  I was pretty convinced that I wanted the Model 4037.  It seemed to have what I wanted and there were many of them available around the country.  Good.  Settled.  Just need to find the right one.

Then as I am looking in RVTrader I came across a different model, the 4041,  and I was hopelessly in love despite its being in Oregon!  Much more pantry space that the other model (one of my big loves in life is cooking and baking) and a BIG window in the kitchen that felt more like a sticks and bricks house than an RV.  I tried to find others closer than Oregon only to find that this was the only one of that model for sale anywhere on any website.  I have to think that all the other people who have this model love it so much that there are none for sale!

The owner was a great guy and I actually enjoyed learning about his pride and joy and felt genuinely bad for the reasons he and his wife had to give up full-time RV'ing.  We came to terms pretty quickly and I was committed.  Now I just had to figure out how to get to Oregon and pick it up.  My older son Adam thought that it would be a good idea to bring the old RV out to him in Northern California, banking on the market being better there than in the east.  Hmmmm....

On Tuesday I started scheming how I could do this.  Then a good friend agreed to travel with me (since he was currently unemployed),  with the only issue being he only had three weeks to spare before he had to be home for an appointment. With those parameters and not too much other thought, we were off for Oregon.  We packed quickly and were on the road only two days after the plan was hatched.  We hit the road on Thursday April 18th, 2018. 

By Friday we had reached almost reached Nebraska, but 12 hours of driving was enough.  1200 miles in two days...whew!  Saturday, Wyoming.  Sunday, Utah and the continental divide, then Idaho and finally Oregon.  Wanting to get to Oregon as fast as we could in the old RV, we high-tailed it across the country in three and a half days.  While we enjoyed the changing landscapes, basically that part of the trip was a blur.  We stayed in Walmart parking lots, woke up, ate, drove, peed, ate, drove, peed, and ate... and would repeat it all again the next day!  Coffee came back into my diet with a vengeance,  joined by Monster drinks and lots of iced tea throughout the rest of the day.

Relatively unscathed, we got to Oregon and prepared to camp out on the street outside their house with the new RV on the street in front of us.  WOW, it dwarfed the old RV.  I did not realize quite how big 40 feet was in real life!  It was quite the Beast... and that became the name that stuck.  

The old RV and the new... quite the difference in size.