Hitch Quasi-Update and How Wild It Is that RVers Live in Different Ways

I’m always the wise-ass with my son when I give him my version of science-related advice: no matter how frustrating it feels to hit dead-ends in research, you are making progress when things fall apart in that you’re ruling out options. It feels like no progress at all, though, I know that. And it’s the kind of progress we’re making here, stranded near Austin. At this stage, we’ve shipped one part of the hitch back to its makers in Michigan, and we will see what the hitch gods there decree.

In the interim, we’re hearing from friends and family whose lives are being upended by the government (and certain unelected, unvetted dudes). We’re hearing from friends in the federal workforce, in international aid, in the sciences, friends who are helping those affected, whose income is lessened or demolished, who are afraid for their human rights as well as their income. For just one example, here’s an article in Wired magazine about Finn’s main research program. We might have to find elsewhere to live if the national parks we’re planning on this summer are shut down or short-staffed, but that’s nothing compared to what we’re hearing about. Egads.

We’re lucky to be having some fun, spending time with our neighbors, whom we met at the Airstream rally this fall.

We spent a day at a Renaissance-style festival, with a twist I’ve never seen: to encourage you to visit its artisans, they offer a scavenger hunt with coded clues in shops, and once you find all the clues and figure out the code, you have a chance to win a coupon for one of the shops.

Peeking in and talking with so many people there satiated my extrovert side for a good long while.

The real coolness lay in our friend Rachael’s lovely, ocean-blue jewelry ensemble, plus Tracy’s whipped pineapple dessert thing: both much appreciated on a dusty, hot day.

Although, we’re so glad we got it after we discovered the cause of Rachael being a bee magnet. Seriously, not only was she swarmed by bees for the first hour we were there; she was stung twice in like 15 minutes. Turns out the bottom layer of her cute outfit had been washed in something that attracted bees, so she did one of those uniquely bra-related maneuvers—she took it off while keeping on her outer dress, stuffed it in a bag, and voila, bee-free. Goes to show: next time you see someone freaking out about bees, can your condescending, “leave them along and they’ll leave you alone” comment. Sometimes bees have no intention of leaving a person alone, especially when they smell like Texas wildflowers.

Another day that was more than a treat: we went on a moderate hike at a nearby state park, not a big deal in any usual way but a huge accomplishment for my literally lame legs. I’ve lost so much muscle mass, and my knee swells so easily, and I am so damned cautious going downhill that I can’t believe I made it. I did!

Three cheers for Shelly hiking a real hike, five full miles, with some hills and brief stops. After, my knee swelled so bad I cried that night, and my muscles were a mess the next day, but here I am two days later feeling strong and back to doing my PT exercises. I am very excited to get my hiking life back! Slowly, but finally.

During down time, it’s an odd RV park we’re in, well, odd in my book; we spend so little time in private RV parks that I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s privately owned, yes, and has some of the associated amenities (nice laundry and bathrooms, full hookups, picnic tables), but there are few travelers here like us. Seems like most trailers here are deserted during the day, with the occupants off at work, maybe at the many tech-related construction sites around Austin. That leaves just Rachael and Leon and us here in the daytime, and since they’re working, it really leaves just us.

What a bummer to be working! Seriously, I’ve forgotten what that entails, like having to buy groceries when you don’t really want to, like hiking on the weekend with everyone else, like workweek routines that keep them from interacting with me all the damned day long like I would like. When a certain campervan isn’t parked between us, I can spy over at their Airstream and see if their door is open, which doesn’t tell me much. What I’d like to do is casually ride my bike around the RV park to see if they’re outside, but even then they could be working outside, so really my nosy self needs to wait until they ping me with an invite to walk the field or hang out at our or their site together.

Remember how they give me serious trailer envy? Now I have outdoor camping furniture envy! Check out this set they just bought, by the makers of their high-end blow-up paddle boards. We both saw these at the Airstream rally, but I had gotten the impression that they’re like those blow-up chairs we had in the 70s, like air mattresses in the shape of sofas. Not!

They’re lightweight, yes, but also sturdy, like, well, like high-end paddleboards. Super cool! This chair looks a bit like a Star Trek captain’s chair if it were built to float in water and the captain drank beer. I’m eagerly awaiting them to pick out throw pillows and blankets, which in Rachael and Leon fashion will be fashionable. Our outdoor furniture looks like the backyard at Sanford and Son’s in comparison, and I’m not sure why, even among other full-timing Airstreamers.

Tracy reminds me that even though we haven’t been doing our usual kind of camping the past year and a half, when we finally get back to it, this kind of furniture will get popped by a falling hatchet, blown away by ridiculous wind squalls, stampeded on by elk, or whatever weird thing might happen in the world of repeated boondocking. Oh yeah, we used to do that. And we will again!