Let’s Go Camping!
Spring is in the air, and I keep thinking of vintage campers. In my dream-head, I would find one and rescue it from lonely abandon. I would spruce it up, give it a snappy makeover, hook it up and head for the hills. In my reality-head, we have enough fixing up to do around here without taking on another thing of sorts. In fact, this morning we drove into town to have a look at a vintage stove we’ve had our eyeballs on for the past two years, quite determined to bring it home with us. As we drove our merry way to Town & Stove I happened to see my camper up there on a hill, sitting forlorn and abandoned amidst a group of pines. What!? Wait! “Uh, Pete, can we drive back this way on the way home?” “Why?” “Uh, so I can go and look at that scary camper on that haunted hill?” (My cult movie drama gene kicked in at that point). But Pete played along. So on our way back with a 1950s (we think) stove in the back, Pete parked the truck on the road and I clambered out wondering if I should worry about Cujo or shotguns. Really, I honestly didn’t know if someone actually was living in it, using it as a meth lab, or as storage for the undead, and it’s really none of my business. But I was going to go up haunted hill to find out. Cause that’s what Nancy Drew would do. Except her friends would come along with her, whilst my Pete stayed in the car and ate a sandwich. Remind me to revoke his detective license.
Up the hill I went, and believe me when I say that I scanned the ground for fresh tire tracks, footprints, Cujo scat and candy wrappers. Nothing. No low growls, so I crept closer. Got braver, got closer. Still nothing. No angry zombie-campers, still good. Closer. Okay, that’s enough. I’m not sure what to make of this. Who parked this thing here, why, and what kind of shape is it in on the inside? It looks like a Shasta. Acts like a Shasta. Wants to be a Shasta. I think I’ll keep my eyes on the Camper on Haunted Hill and see how long it stays there, or if a for sale sign pops up.