Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Shoot me. Just shoot me now.
With a few rare exceptions, though, when it comes to RV living it is not the little old ladies who get to walk those wee beasties. It's the old dudes, the geezers who spent their entire lives working so they could afford a really nice Leviathan or humongous 5th wheel. The golden years finally arrive, they're able to do some traveling, be snowbirds, enjoy the good years ("this message brought to you by the Ketchup Advisory Board. . ."), and what does The Wife do? She insists first on sharing that motorhome or travel trailer with a dog, sometimes multiple dogs, and the beast is one of those miniature breeds that puppy mills crank out by the gazillions and that are usually psychotic as hell from having spent the first ten weeks or more of its life in a canine concentration camp. Then she decides that walking that beast, that nasty-tempered little yipper, is a good chore for the Old Man. He apparently needs the exercise more than she does. End result? A lot of old dudes shuffling around the RV park or campground walking shih tzus, Pomeranians, Chihuahuas, etc., and all with the same expression on their face: "Shoot me. Please shoot me now." You just know that this is not how they pictured retirement.
One of the neighbors here is an older guy, I'm guessing he's probably somewhere in his 80s, who amuses us because his vehicle has a set of truck nuts dangling from the trailer hitch. You just don't expect to see truck nuts on a vehicle belonging to someone that old. (Actually, you don't expect to see truck nuts anywhere any more -- that fad kind of came and went a few years ago.) It didn't take us long to figure out why he has that set of plastic testicles. They're to compensate for the ones he lost years ago when his wife insisted on getting a couple of perambulating dust mops that he's now stuck walking and cleaning up after. Poor bastard.
Another set of neighbors, some folks who just pulled in a couple days ago with a high dollar Leviathan, actually have four, count 'em, four annoying little furballs traveling with them. The little bastards bark like maniacs every time anyone walks past their site. Now, I know a Class A has a lot more space in it than the Guppy does -- being quite a few feet longer does make a difference -- but even so, why anyone who was even remotely in their right mind would want to travel with four yippers is beyond me.