Nature! Get It Off Me.

Defusing bombs, piloting a jet, sucking the venom out of a bite, all man skills I do not possess. Add to that, backing a trailer.

We recently purchased a pop-up camper. Eight foot box, two slide outs expandable to twelve foot, a mere two hundred and fifty pounds of tongue weight, and approximately 1,850 pounds of GVW. Yeah, I don’t know what that stuff means either.

I do know that with the optional air conditioner, the addition of a small microwave and coffee maker, and plenty of on board plug-ins for cell phone chargers, hand held games, and mini-DVD players, roughing it never has been this much fun. After a series of small overnight test runs over the last few months, the family loaded up and traveled some three hours south to Branson for the weekend.

First off, to the City of Branson, I apologize for running over a Baldknobber. But with his silly hat, dorky tie, and decades old acoustic guitar in hand, I’d say he had it coming. Anyone who has ever endured one of the multitude of “shows” in Branson right now is shaking their head in agreement, silently saying “I’m not saying it’s right, just that I understand.”

Secondly, backing up a trailer, even a small one, sucks. Did I say backing a trailer sucks? Try it with neighbors on both sides and a truck waiting behind you to pass through. That is a whole new level of suck, a category heretofore not known unto man. This, gentle readers, is why truckers drink. I’m sure of it.

Lastly, to the makers of the tenting and canvas components of Viking Campers, I say kudos to you my friends. Reeling from the trauma of nearly wiping out half the campground, dealing badly with the stress of the “first the jet pilot thing and now this” look in my wife’s eyes, and with the laughter of the other campers nearby who survived still ringing in my ears, rains came. I mean rain. So hard you couldn’t hear yourself scream. Thunder so close, it actually made your body rumble. More than a few times during the rampage I began to consider the aerodynamics of the camper, certain we were going to achieve lift in the winds blowing us back to front and left to right. The storm was impressive by anyone’s standards. It rained and stormed, stormed and rained, rained and stormed for the next five hours solid. The rains continued for about twelve hours after the thunder and lightning gave up harassing us. Good times, people. Good times. Not a drop in the camper. High and dry, we were, the entire time.

Just the three of us: The little guy entertaining himself in the spirit of all things wooly and pioneer like by multi-tasking between the Chipmunks DVD, his Leapster, and the Gameboy. Mommy way over on her side of the pull out bed, no doubt asking herself what’s happened to the Marlboro men of the world, and me determining what speed I would need to make in order to ram through the back of the garage at home, making it a pull through. Cause, there will be no more backing up. Ever.