It has been a long time since I have been trailering. (I call it that and not “camping” in deferance to those who claim it is not camping unless it involves hanging your food in a sack to keep it away from bears.)
My first nine summers were spent in a series of travel trailers – a 20 foot Ace, a 30 foot Prowler and, in the waning years of our excursions, a Jayco pop-up. Excepting a three week stint in a borrowed pop-up around 1990, hauling my youngest brother to Florida and back, it’s been nearly 30 years since I lived the trailering life.
But a few weeks ago, we found the perfect camper for us – a 21 foot hybrid travel trailer by Trail-Cruiser – and, of course, got it for practically a song as it as a bank repo. A month of afternoons with the tools and Internets taught me how it worked and Friday afternoon we hitched up for our maiden voyage.
It’s Sunday morning now and the family is mostly asleep. As I sit here at the dinette and watch the sun stream around the blinds, I think I have found a little piece of it.