Sunday, August 2, 2015
The kiddies were getting an idea. They remembered how many days it took to drive northward to Cannon Beach (three), and wondered if there might be a better way. Their memories of the trip included multiple potty stops, meals, hotels and gas stations. It was all the most terrific fun, to be sure. But it took rather a lot of time.
The eldest, of course, brought up (again) the possibility of flying there. "Grampa, it would only take 2 and a half hours, instead of 3 days! We have just GOT TO FLY!" he intoned.
"Yes! Fly! Fly! Fly!" cried the 2 little ones. "Only 2 and a half hours!" They did have a point, Grandma thought.
"But," Grampa said, "If we fly once, that still leaves all the other trips to Cannon Beach still needing a solution. What would we do then?" They stood in silent confusion. Gramps was right.
"So, do you know, Grampa?" asked the eldest.
Gramps thought for a moment, and then said, "Well. I suppose we could always consider an RV.." The children paused for only an electric moment and then, "RV! RV! RV!" they piped.
The RV idea, of course, is one of Grampa's most favorite topics to discuss and research. Taking the kiddies to do this with him was just exactly the ticket, and Grandma began gathering them up and vectored them toward the van.
'In we get, then." said Grandma. "Off we go to the RV lot!" said Grampa.
The RV lot had simply TONS of RVs.
The nice RV man shook Grampa's hand and welcomed the children. And they were instantly interested in every single trailer, camper, 5th wheel, and Class A, B, or C they saw. Nothing could get them tired of it. They talked about what it would be like to eat in the little kitchen instead of wall-to-wall fast food; or using the RV facilities so that no Rest Area need ever be stopped at (Grandma and Grampa both liked this idea); then stopping for the night in a nice, protected RV Park with hook-ups and little shops along the way. It would be dreamy.
After a while the nice RV man made them some popcorn. And he gave them a Sprite. And we went back out into the heat to look at yet another set of rigs. But at this point, Grandma had begun to feel hot and not at all dreamy. Soon even the men felt that they did not really need to step into another bake oven of an RV, and decided to end the tour.
"Goodbye! Goodbye!" said the children. "Thank you!"
We drove out of the lot, and then - sudden sadness! "Where is my doggy?" said the small girl.
Silence. "Doggy?" said Grandpa.
If a drone had been hovering above the white van, listening and watching, it would have seen the van make a u-turn, retrace its steps back into the RV lot. It would have seen the small girl and the Grandma climbing back into the RVs, to look for the very important stuffed doggy that was missing. The RVs were all still bake ovens.
Although we never found it, the small girl was kind and understanding. She (and we) still live in hope that the nice RV man will come across it and it will make its way back to the Little Blue House.
In the meantime, it will probably be a while before Grandma climbs back into an RV again. Winter, maybe?
See you along the way!