Chapter Five
A week later, Mickey called and invited them to go to an RV show in a nearby town. Larry balked.
“We’re really not interested in buying a camper, Mick.”
“We just go for the looking. There’s entertainment and cooking demonstrations—it’s just a fun day. Whaddya have to lose?”
“My sanity. Every time I hang around you.”
Frannie walked into the living room just as Larry hung up.
“Who was that?”
He grinned. “My girlfriend.”
“And she’s affecting your sanity? Are you sure it wasn’t Mickey?”
“You got me. They want us to go to an RV show Saturday.”
She shrugged. “We have nothing else on.”
“We aren’t buying a camper.”
“I get that.”
So they went. They enjoyed barbecue sandwiches and watched a demonstration on cast-iron cooking. They trudged up and down steps into new travel trailers, fifth-wheel trailers, Class Cs with sleeping quarters over the truck cab, Class B vans, and giant Class A motorhomes.
They all smelled like new cars and had clear plastic over the upholstery and mattresses. Frannie thought most didn’t look like they belonged in a campground. Some seemed too plush for trips in them to be called camping, and others didn’t seem like very practical arrangements.
Many had price tags higher than Frannie and Larry’s house had twenty years earlier. Still, there was something about them that beckoned to Frannie: cozy, efficient, and—most important— protection from storms.
On the way home, Jane Ann and Mickey discussed the fine points of several trailers and Class Cs that they admired.
"Why would you buy something you have to hook up? Seems like the ones you can drive would be a lot easier,” Frannie said.
“For one thing, they’re more expensive because you’re buying an engine, too. And you either have to tow a car or stay put. No trips to the grocery store,” Mickey said. “But you’re right—they are easier. That’s why we’re looking at Class Cs.”
“Those are the ones with the bed over the cab, right?” Frannie asked. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to do that with one of those huge bus-like things, but it seems like the Class Cs wouldn’t be that hard to take to a grocery store.”
Jane Ann shook her head. “They aren’t if there’s a big parking lot. But first you have to unhook power and water and stow everything so that nothing rolls around while you’re driving. Then when you get back, hook power and water back up and get everything out again. It’s a lot of hassle.”
Frannie leaned back in her seat. “Boy, lot to think about.”
Mickey said, “Well, Shoemaker—you’re pretty quiet. See anything you liked?”
“We aren’t buying a camper.”
“Yeah, I know, but if someone was going to give you one, which one would you take?”
Larry narrowed his eyes and glanced over at Mickey. “Are you buying me a camper, Mick?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“Geesh, what a grouch. You’re right—you don’t deserve a camper. You’d just deposit your bad vibes in it and then you’d never be able to sell it.”
Larry grinned. “Right.”
A couple of weeks later, the Shoemakers were about to sit down to supper on their deck, when a raucous horn sounded in the alley. A light blue pickup came into view pulling a white and blue travel trailer.
“Who is that?” Larry asked.
The driver’s window slid down and Mickey’s head popped out. “Hey, campers!” he yelled.
Larry dropped his napkin by his plate and got up. “He doesn’t give up, does he?” But he was smiling.
Frannie and the kids followed him to the alley.
Mickey jumped out of the truck and held up both arms. “Surprise!”
“This is for us?” Larry said.
“Of course not. You don’t deserve it. We do. Sorry, Frannie, kids, but he’s the Grinch that Stole Summer. Want to check it out?”
Jane Ann was already leading them back to the camper door, while Larry said, “New wheels too? Pretty snazzy.” He and Mickey hung back and discussed the merits of the new truck while Jane Ann led the tour of the trailer.
The outside of the trailer was white with graphic stripes in two shades of blue. Inside, Jane Ann proudly pointed out the neat cabinets and the dining table and couch that made into beds. At one end, a folding door led to a bedroom with a double mattress, and at the other end two bunks fit into one corner and a bathroom in the other. White walls set off the blue curtains and upholstery.
Jane Ann’s tone was a little apologetic. “This actually sleeps eight, but I think the beds out here would be a little too cozy,”
Frannie grinned. “Well, it’s beautiful, Jane Ann. I’m so happy for you. What did you do with your pop-up?”
Jane Ann started out the door. “Mickey’s going to put it up for sale.” She turned around. “Do you guys want it?”
Frannie shook her head. “Larry says we’re not buying a camper.”
Sally heard this exchange. “Mom! We should! That would be so cool!”
“Talk to your dad,” Frannie said, but her voice said, Don’t get your hopes up.
Sally attacked him the minute they got out the door. “Daddy! We should buy their old one!”
Larry smiled at her but shook his head. “We’re not looking for a camper.”
Over the next few days, Sam and Sally brought up the topic of the pop-up until Larry began to get testy about it. He made it clear that after their Memorial Day experience, he didn’t consider the popup much more protection than the tent.
Jane Ann reported back after their first outing that the new trailer was a “dream” and everyone enjoyed the added space.
Frannie was pleased for them, and a little envious.
The next week, Larry planned to drop off his truck after work for an oil change and asked Frannie to follow him to the dealer. When she arrived at the police station, he was finishing up some paper work.
“I’ll just be a minute. Do you want to wait in the break room?”
The converted office contained a small table, two folding chairs, a disreputable-looking coffee pot and a small, ancient pink refrigerator. It didn’t even have a separate freezer. The rounded door was camouflaged with policy notices, upcoming events (that had passed some time ago), and items for sale.
Frannie opened the fridge to check the soda selection. As she closed the door, she glanced over the offerings, thinking that in several hundred years, that door would offer some archeologist several years of study.
Then her eyes stopped on one sale notice. Someone had a used camper that looked pretty good in the grainy photo. The price was much less than anything at the RV show.
Larry stuck his head in the door. “Ready to go?”
“Sure. Did you see this?” She pointed at the sheet of paper.
“No—I rarely come in here. What is it?”
She took it off the fridge and showed him. “This is very reasonable, it’s only five years old, and says it’s been gently used. Maybe we could do something like this?”
He read the ad and then looked at her. “Are you seriously interested in this? I didn’t think you ever wanted to camp.”
She screwed up her face. “It was a good time. Well, except for the storm. And the raccoons. The kids loved it.”
“But how about you? Did you love it?”
She thought a moment. “I did. It was so relaxing. Mostly.”
Larry looked at the ad again. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look at it. I don’t recognize the name so I don’t know who posted this. Hard to tell how long it’s been here. I’ll find out.”
The owner of the camper lived in the town of Norton about twenty miles from Perfection Falls. Glen Hansen was a ruddy-faced man with large hands, obviously used to the outdoors. He led them to a large parking pad behind his garage. Lar
ry and Frannie looked at each other, confused. A big new Winnebago motorhome sat there.
Hansen continued around the motorhome and pointed at a much smaller, well-used trailer crouched in the shadows. Hansen took off his cap and wiped his forehead. “We used it a lot. But we’ve retired now and are selling our house. We’re going to live in this baby full-time.” He patted the front of the motorhome proudly. “Going to see all of the sights there are to see in this big beautiful country.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Frannie said, although she didn’t think that much camping would be for her. “We aren’t sure if we really want to camp, but we’re thinking about it. We have two teenage kids who enjoy it and are pressuring us.” She gave him a little smile.
Hansen turned to her.
“Ma’am, if you have teenagers who actually want to go camping and spend time with you, you’d better arrange it somehow. Whether you buy this camper, or a tent, or a fifty-foot motor home—whatever it takes. You want to see the inside?”
“We’d love to,” Frannie said, and Larry agreed.
Hansen led the way up two shallow steps.
“How long is this?” Larry asked.
Frannie thought he was probably trying to appear knowledgeable about camper buying.
“Twenty-seven feet.” He pointed where a bed filled one end under a cozy curved ceiling. He nodded toward bright turquoise and green curtains. “My wife made all of the curtains.”
The other end held a dinette and booth. In the center a small kitchen sat across from a couch. “The dinette and couch each make into a bed.”
Frannie thought of Mickey and Jane Ann’s new trailer with the separate bedroom and bunk room. But this would make more sense for them until they decided how serious they were about it.
Hansen opened a narrow door next to the refrigerator. Smaller than any closet, the tiny space housed a toilet and sink. “It doesn’t have a shower. We always used the ones in the campgrounds.”
Larry shrugged. “That’s doable, I guess. It’s what we did with a tent.”
Hansen showed them the location of the water heater and pump, and the little furnace. He explained about propane and the refrigerator. Frannie half listened as she opened cabinets and storage compartments. Hansen, or someone, had cleaned them thoroughly.
On the way home, they talked about the little camper.
Larry said, “Well, at the price he’s asking, I would think we could always get our money out of it if we don’t like it.”
Frannie concealed her surprise at his receptiveness and tried to sound reluctant. “I suppose that’s true.”
For the next week, they discussed it off and on. In the end, they decided to offer Glenn Hansen his asking price for the trailer. They told Sam and Sally, called Hansen, and all piled in the truck to go pick it up. Larry had bought a hitch and had it installed before the eventful day.
“Is there room for Sam and me to bring a friend?” Sally asked, when they were on their way.
“Well, the beds aren’t very big, but we could always take a small tent.”
In spite of the small size, the kids were excited as they explored the nooks and crannies. Hansen gave Frannie and Larry a thorough primer on the fundamentals of the workings, maintenance, and towing of the little trailer. They got it home and backed into their driveway without incident.
“So, when are we going camping?” Sam asked.
“Relax,” Frannie said. “We’re going with Uncle Mickey and Aunt Jane Ann next week. Before that, I need to pack it with all of the basic stuff.”
“Basic stuff? Like what?”
“You know—silly stuff like dishes, pots and pans, food, bedding…”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess you need that.”
“We need that.”
“Whatever.”