Moving Day
We’ve been waiting for this day since last summer. Remember last summer? Gas prices were skyrocketing and we decided we couldn’t afford to haul the camper all over the countryside any longer. So instead of investing in tanks of gasoline for our aging truck, we invested in a seasonal camp site for 2009.
And yesterday was moving day.
The trip into the Laurel Highlands about killed our old truck. Less than halfway there, it developed some rather disturbing new sound effects: a kind of metallic whispery whine. While climbing the Summit (a locally famous mountain near Uniontown), the old Chevy slowed to a crawl even with the gas pedal pressed to the floor. The temperature gauge crept dangerously close to the red zone and the motor roared. We pleaded and coaxed and encouraged. And we made it over the top.
We stopped in Chalk Hill. Hubby and I ate an early lunch at Subway. The old truck caught her breath in the parking lot.
But the Summit was nothing. We still had several more mountains to tackle and the roads were narrower, steeper, and windy. The final uphill climb mimicked a mountain goat path. Rolling down the other side, the campground in sight, brakes began to burn. As we eased to a stop in front of our “new home,” Hubby announced they were mushy. When I opened my door, the truck radiated the pungent aroma of smoked brakes.
Trying not to think about it, we set to work. We parked and unhitched. We jacked it up and blocked it and leveled it.
Right now, it doesn’t look like much. About all we can boast is a sidewalk that previous campers left behind. They also abandoned a pile of junk which is stacked against the fence behind us. Future firewood.
This is the view across the road from us.
And here’s a shot of the neighborhood.
Consider these to all be “BEFORE” shots. After all, the campground doesn’t open for another month. We had the place to ourselves except for a brief visit by the owner who came to check out the preseason activity.
After our work was done, we took a drive through “our new town” of Confluence. Nestled in a river valley, surrounded by the Laurel Highlands, there is no Internet service. Even those Verizon guys would have no luck in this little town. There are no chain stores, no Wi-Fi hot spots. I noticed kids playing outside with jump ropes and hullahoops. You gotta wonder about the connection there. It’s like stepping back into time.
This lack of ability to connect to the outer world will either drive me nuts OR it may be just what I need to get some real work done.
Our old truck ran much better coming home without the camper tagging along behind. We nearly ran out of gas, but we blame THAT on the truck or its age.
And yesterday was moving day.
The trip into the Laurel Highlands about killed our old truck. Less than halfway there, it developed some rather disturbing new sound effects: a kind of metallic whispery whine. While climbing the Summit (a locally famous mountain near Uniontown), the old Chevy slowed to a crawl even with the gas pedal pressed to the floor. The temperature gauge crept dangerously close to the red zone and the motor roared. We pleaded and coaxed and encouraged. And we made it over the top.
We stopped in Chalk Hill. Hubby and I ate an early lunch at Subway. The old truck caught her breath in the parking lot.
But the Summit was nothing. We still had several more mountains to tackle and the roads were narrower, steeper, and windy. The final uphill climb mimicked a mountain goat path. Rolling down the other side, the campground in sight, brakes began to burn. As we eased to a stop in front of our “new home,” Hubby announced they were mushy. When I opened my door, the truck radiated the pungent aroma of smoked brakes.
Trying not to think about it, we set to work. We parked and unhitched. We jacked it up and blocked it and leveled it.
Right now, it doesn’t look like much. About all we can boast is a sidewalk that previous campers left behind. They also abandoned a pile of junk which is stacked against the fence behind us. Future firewood.
This is the view across the road from us.
And here’s a shot of the neighborhood.
Consider these to all be “BEFORE” shots. After all, the campground doesn’t open for another month. We had the place to ourselves except for a brief visit by the owner who came to check out the preseason activity.
After our work was done, we took a drive through “our new town” of Confluence. Nestled in a river valley, surrounded by the Laurel Highlands, there is no Internet service. Even those Verizon guys would have no luck in this little town. There are no chain stores, no Wi-Fi hot spots. I noticed kids playing outside with jump ropes and hullahoops. You gotta wonder about the connection there. It’s like stepping back into time.
This lack of ability to connect to the outer world will either drive me nuts OR it may be just what I need to get some real work done.
Our old truck ran much better coming home without the camper tagging along behind. We nearly ran out of gas, but we blame THAT on the truck or its age.
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Comments
Poor truck! Don't ya just hate when you're holding your breath, crossing your fingers, and trying to send positive thoughts to your limping vehicle in hopes it gets you home?
Never a dull moment, eh?
that reminds me of the time when we were taking a bus tour on a mountaintop in Austria and saw all the East German Trabis with their little engines smoking and stopped along the road to take a breather - or a last breath.
Doris
Never a dull moment is right!