A few months ago, Mr. Fae and I decided to sell our travel trailer since it’s usefulness to us was at an end. My dear friend, Fee, and her husband Mr. Fee decided that they would love to become RV owners. A deal was struck and a maiden camping voyage planned to show them the so-called ropes. Now let me put this out there…they camped sporadically but not all the time. Towing a trailer was going to need some time to get used to.
When they arrived to bring the trailer home, Mr. Fee asked us if we could follow them back and help put the trailer in their backyard. My husband is the kind of person that believes in order to learn a skill, one must practice the skill, not watch others do it. Hence Mr. Fee had to backup his own trailer into his own backyard. Mr. Fae helped him and he eventually got it into the area on the concrete for its new home. The problem, a very slight one at that, was that the trailer needed to avoid hitting the corner eave of their house and avoid taking down the wooden gate on the other side. The cushion on each side was mere inches. inches.
The camping date arrived and a time for AIS (Ass In Seat) was decided upon. We would leave by 2pm. At 1:30pm we received a May Day call asking for helping getting the trailer out of their backyard. It seems that they attempted it but it was now wedged into their wooden fence. We both went; Mr. Fae to direct and me to laugh uproariously at them. That’s what friends are for. Am I right?
Did I mention that the cushion was mere inches on both sides to make it out all right? To make matters worse, the concrete had a side sloping grade so that the top 50% of the trailer was scraping the fence while the bottom 50% was fine. They had to put 2×4’s on the low side under the wheels just to level it all out. They would move an inch forward and an inch back. Back and forth…slowly. It looked like this:
A neighbor of theirs had been watching the
debacle show and came to laugh his ass off as well help. With his assistance, removal of the wooden gate , a few fence posts and a beer or two, the trailer was freed. At one point letting the air out of the eave side trailer tires was kicked around but ego and prayers worked…it didn’t take out the topside a/c unit or eaves. Phew! We finally left town around 5pm.
We traveled to Lake Tahoe and to one of the most mis-managed and expensive RV parks. Ever. We have a motor home so we always get a pull through space not one that you would need to back into. They only had one to fit our RV and our friends had a back in site. This is how we had to get to our site, avoiding all the pine trees and ornamental boulders. 40′ motor homes do not have the turning radius of a tricycle, so it became a tad dicey. We were in site 161, they were in site 125. There was absolutely no way to turn left at the showers right away so the assistant manager told us to go around the parking arena.
Once we pulled into our site, we got a call from our friends….the backing up part again was rearing it’s ugly head. And no, they weren’t next to us. That would have been too easy and convenient. They were over two lanes. My question at this point was “bring the camera or not?”. I opted not to; something I’ve regretted ever since.
Mr. Fae and I went over to help. They both were laughing about it and Mr. Fae insisted that our friend learn the hard way and to continue trying but with more experienced help assisting him. When that didn’t work, Mr. Fae tried it. I have to say, my husband is one hella good backer upper but even this was giving him trouble with the way it was angled and all those GD trees. Seriously…whose idea was it to plant all these 60′ trees everywhere?
Then the two brainiacs decided that since there wasn’t anyone parked at the next site, that they would drive around and though it, pulling into the correct site and presto-chango! Camping shall commence. Here’s a map. Tell me what you think happened next.
No, you’re wrong. He got wedged against the wooden fence. Again. Wedged so tightly, so intricately, that he crimped a portion of the trailer and got stuck. If he pulled forward, it would crumple deeper and if he backed up, it would pull out the crippled siding.
I must admit that I didn’t see this part. I left earlier since dinner that night was mine to make for the four of us. I figured (really? I wasn’t thinking. Clearly) that it was handled. Then I received a call from Fee. I could tell that she had her hand covering her mouth and was whispering to me. She said that all the campers around them had brought their camp chairs out and had lined them all up to watch. A floor show, if you will. She was crying she was laughing so hard and trying not to let the guys see her. I was laughing along with the tears running down my leg imaging all that. We hung up and I continued the dinner prep.
I got another call.
This was my side of the conversation…
Hello? What? Seriously? What? He did not! Omg! What?! Omgomgomgomg!!
The park manager had shown up.
He was a youngish up and comer in the seasonal rv park world, you can tell these things and his first exclamation was “you’re not supposed to drive there!”. Observant little cuss, don’t you think? He called in reinforcements in the way of an older, well seasoned in the stupidity of campers gentleman. He looked things over and declared that in order to free the trailer was to cut down the buck and rail fence. The manager was apoplectic.
Let it be so. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
The fence cut down, the trailer freed from it’s very own Red Room, and finally parked in it’s rightful site.
The night ended quite late and many, many bottles of spirits consumed. This is how I feel about hangovers:
and here are Mr. Fae and Mr. Fee.