Is Life on the Road so Simple?

Snow covers the highway on a springtime RV trip in British Columbia.
Photo credit: Sharlene Minshall

It was a simple life…

At least in my memory it was. In looking back on twenty years as a single, solo full-time RVer, it certainly seems like there was a minimum of problems, but then again, my memory isn’t too swift these days. Having just gone through all the hullabaloo of selling the house, packing all my precious “Early Halloween” belongings in the back of my car, dropping and changing accounts with no permanent address, and on and on, I was thinking about my earlier “Simple Life” on the road.

Well, OK, so I do recall two transmission failures, a few blown tires, landslides, window-peeking bears, and there was that time I pushed a foot of snow on a mountaintop coming back from Canada’s Northwest Territories…and almost got creamed by a semi.

But it was a simple life…

To be independent enough to enjoy boondocking spots, one must listen to more experienced RVers. With repeated visits by early morning distributors of teensy black markers (An inordinate amount of chocolate sprinkles on my doughnuts?), I needed advice. Another RVer assured me that cleanser discourages mice. I sprinkled Comet heavily around the tires and went to bed.

I awakened from a deep sleep, aware of gnawing and gnashing, a familiar sound and yet in my foggy state, I didn’t want to believe the origin. Deep in my heart I knew…I climbed gingerly down the ladder and found the mellow yellow cheese-scented trap. Sadistically spreading smooth, reduced-fat, pungent peanut butter across the spring, I placed it in a familiar hangout, sort of a “Cheers” cheese bar near the steering column. Little did my visitors know how deadly were the canapés.

Hardly had my bare toes curled cringingly on the cold rungs back up to my beckoning bunk when BINGO! Another mouse bit the dust. In respect for the dead, I named it The Honorable Number 16.

While Comet is great for scrubbing sinks or tubs, as a rodenticide, it failed miserably. But then again, only clean feet scampered throughout my rolling residence.

But it was a simple life…

Always be willing to learn. In this case, I learned a whole new set of phrases: son of a sea-going pelican, for crying tears in a bucket, and jeez peas and blood clots (from my medical-secretarial days). A leak with an accompanying drip, drip, drip had developed in the sewer system. Tightening the hose clamps didn’t solve the problem. A new wastewater valve brought promise.

I sprayed the ever-faithful WD-40 on the nuts and bolts and gingerly coaxed them to let go of many years worth of rust, road oil, tar and whatever else accumulates on the underside of an RV. After bruising my knuckles on the unusual angles required to keep the wrenches in place, getting a crick in my neck from lying directly under the gunky valve, and two hours of calling upon a complete inventory of the above-mentioned phrases, I got the old black water tank valve off. My pretzeled back and scraped knuckles were as exhausted as the rest of me and dirty, well, we’re talking filthy here, but I felt really elated with having actually replaced that black water valve…and the best part, it didn’t leak anymore.

But it was a simple life…

Towing a car with a motorhome presents a whole set of problems but nothing like when I decided I wanted to turn at the previous corner and explore a different route. The highway seemed amply wide to turn the entire entourage around and I had clear vision for quite a distance.

It would have been a piece of cake except for that hunk of cement hidden in the tall grass. I straightaway ran back to unhook the car still in the middle of the highway. Thankfully, the ball and coupler hadn’t jammed. As soon as I lifted the hitch, the car took off backwards. That’s what happens when cars in neutral are on slight hills. Since it could have caused me to feel run down, I didn’t pursue it. It hit a solid berm and stopped. I immediately got in the RV, straightened it and parked where I could bring the car around to hitch it again.

What did I learn? First, that I should never do a uey in the middle of the highway because it is against the law; second, that I must always set the emergency brake before unhooking, and third, I’ll always remember that traffic increases exponentially in that situation. Something else sticks in my memory. A lot of traffic passed by and nobody stopped to see if they could help or give advice. Hmmm.

But it was a simple life…

While boondocking on the beach, I heard a “click, click, click,” which meant the refrigerator wasn’t lighting. I was always very tuned in to sounds while boondocking. I turned the propane off for a few seconds. For whatever reason, it would sometimes light, then turn back on. The magic formula didn’t work.

Since I wasn’t into rummaging around in the dead of night on a Mexican beach to fix an expired refrigerator, I waited until morning. All the little gismos, whatchamacallits, and connections were secure. Peering through the window where the pilot light lives, I cleaned six months worth of grime from anything reachable with an old toothbrush. With the ice pick, I knocked off the residue. The fingernail file was thin and flexible enough to get in and clean it off even better.

With all this accomplished, I blew in its ear and whispered, “Light up my life and you can travel with me forever.” It lit. I’m not sure whether it was my great expertise at fixing things, the whispers, or the prayer I said before I turned on the propane, but I wasn’t asking questions.

But it was a simple life…

Have you ever walked from the bathroom to the kitchen or from the driver’s seat to the living room and forgotten why you were there? I mean, how long does it take to travel ten steps or less? How often have you returned to get an item you put there five minutes before, only to find it gone? The Menehunes hide items under newspapers, behind saltshakers, or if the lost item is a pair of glasses, on your forehead.

The one thing good about a fading memory is saving money. If you buy two movies, two books and two magazines, you’re set for life. By the time you get through reading or seeing the second one, the first one is only vaguely familiar and it is a pleasure to go through it again. If editors weren’t getting younger and younger, I could get away with writing only two columns a year. Younger people have memories like elephants.

Now that I’ve come to the end of this column, I probably should tell you to turn the page for “the rest of the story” but I forgot what it was, and by the way, tell me again, just who are you? God Bless and I wish you a “very simple life.”

Sharlene Minshall’s first novel, “Winter in the Wilderness” (in e-book & hard cover), and the fourth edition of “RVing Alaska and Canada” are available through Amazon.com. Follow her blog, “The Silver Gypsy” at rvlife.com.

Sharlene Minshall