As college newlyweds Hubby and I inhabited an antique thirty-eight-foot trailer sans air-conditioning. Although wedged between train tracks and Milwaukee’s answer to a beltway, we were positive this early-marriage launching pad was temporary and we didn’t mind one bit living on wheels.
Along with an upper-level education we learned:
1. Never chip away solid soot in the kerosene-heater if you plan on relighting it.
2. A canary will not survive a torrid summer day if your forget to open a window.
3. A unit built in Alabama is not recommended for a Wisconsin winter.
Several years and three children later, we rented a trailer to vacation out West.
The toilet overflowed and a dust storm sifted into every crevice. Plus, my nausea and pregnancy with Child Number Four didn’t enhance the holiday.
Still, we had fun and purchased a pop-up tent camper to haul our B&B with us. Years later we upgraded to a trailer which slept eight and fed ten…and a good thing, since not only was Child Number Five on the way, but friends and bikes crowded in, too. I related to the poem, “There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe,” except my shoe had wheels.
For twenty-one years we owned a mobile pet grooming business with five uncooperative vans. I naively assumed I’d be the office manager, but when groomers didn’t show up for work, guess who hopped in a van and hit the road. Most of my waking hours were spent rolling alongBaltimore’s Beltway.
As empty-nesters we purchased a small motor home and a new education:
- An unlatched fridge door will fling its contents to the floor when cornering.
- Over-nighting at truck stops squeezed between semis is not restful.
- Wasting two of your seven days in a repair shop does not count as vacation.
Retirement arrived and Hubby asked, “How about we look into living in a manufactured home park?”
I’m thinking trailer. “Uh, not me.”
Hubby won that round and the minute workers removed its wheels our manufactured home never rolled again.
I’m land-locked for now, but there’s a Bible passage that says God is preparing a room for me in His mansion. I’m quite certain He has a sense of humor (made in His image, you know) and I’m a tad concerned my eternal room will hover over four wheels.
Or, perhaps, I will receive a bike to maneuver around Heaven when everyone else simply floats. God’s little joke on someone who loves humor?