How Soon They Forget

There I sit, in the corner of the yard, like a ’51 Chevy that had a broken axle and no one had the $65.00 to repair it.  I’ve been dusted off, washed and parked out to dry.  The thousands of smashed bug bodies on my forward surface are gone.  That’s ok, I don’t like bug goo any better than you do.  They even gave me an enema to flush my tanks and tubes.  All liquids were taken out of my cute little storage places so that when it drops to -30 degrees this winter, nothing will freeze, expand and burst out of the bottle, oozing cheap men’s cologne, eco-safe dish detergent, insect repellant or a forgotten can of diet Fresca into the recesses of my cabinetry.  I’m put up on plastic thingies that look like parts of a day-glo Lego set.  It’ll be lonely and cold out here.  I guess they forgot how well I got them through their journey.

I helped push them up and over the frightening mountain passes (Pat, the driver, thinks he was pulling me, but we know better, don’t we?).  I gave them a nice cool place to relax after an exhausting quarter-mile hike into Golden Canyon in Death Valley when Pat’s pocket thermometer read 96 degrees…in his pocket.  I never leaked a drop from the cold rain onto Pat’s sleeping head.  As for the sleeping, ok, I could have provided a more firm bed to help the guy with his poor back.  But, that’s fine, he’s many things, but a complainer he’s not.

They cooked nice, tasty healthful meals on my little two burner Propane stove.  I wasn’t a bit jealous when they chose to grill with that brand-new L. L. Bean griller.  Even if it was an awfully catchy bright green.  It’s the kind of thing that other grills use when they grill.

So, all in all, and all things being equal, when all is said and done and in the last analysis, I did a good job for them…for nearly 9,000 miles.  I hope they look out of their bedroom window and remember the good times we had.  Just Pat, Mariam and me, the little R-Pod.

I’m thankful for one thing.  They didn’t go crazy with the tourist stickers that so many RV’ers do.  Thankfully, they didn’t plaster one of those GREETINGS FROM OHIO peel-offs on my backside.

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