Continuing our westward transcontinental sally, our final cross-country trek in our final RV, we continued to arrange meetups with old, and not so old, friends. And we hit a milestone in our process of divesting ourselves of excess baggage in order to better devote ourselves to international volunteering.

One such rendezvous occurred at Tall Pines Campground in upstate New York, which was owned and managed by our old friends Gayle and Eddy, who live on the premises. We met them through a group called Families On The Road, which as the name suggests, was an online community for families who traveled in RVs — and, generally homeschooled their kids as we did. In addition to being in touch and trading resources online, these families occasionally would have a big pow-wow at some interesting location like Port Canaveral, Florida or Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin.

Our plan was to have a cookout, but a storm came along and caused us to relocate everything to the front porch. We still had a good meal and a good time swapping road stories.

From there we headed to Ithaca, where we made a pit stop to meet up with several friends at a bakery/ cafe. Meanwhile, we’d heard from someone back in the Boston area who was very interested in purchasing our trailer (which was indeed for sale). The trouble was, we were already a goodly distance from there, and didn’t want to backtrack.

But it happened that the small gathering in Ithaca included the Weed family, whom we’d recently visited in Foxboro, MA.; and they were on the way back there. So they willingly agreed to deliver the trailer for us.

In preparation for the transaction we emptied out the trailer except for a few things the new owner could use. After getting rid of the dispensable (some of which we discarded in a dumpster without authorization — shhhh!!) we stacked the rest in boxes inside the RV. For the next few days we’d be climbing over them to access our bathroom or kitchen, until the stock gradually diminished to more manageable proportions.

Hitching the trailer to their pickup necessitated a trip to AutoZone to obtain an adaptor for the wiring harness so our trailer’s lights could communicate with their truck’s. And we also had to make some adjustments to the hitch because of the height differential. Finally, after finessing and finagling, we arrived at a satisfactory configuration. The trailer was slanted back noticeably, as if it was bracing to lift up off the pavement and soar into the air. But that was acceptable to get it where it needed to go.

And so we said a fond adieu to our trusty old trailer, which had been with us for seven years; we bought it in Albuquerque the day after our prior trailer, which had been with us for eleven years, was obliterated by a big truck at 10:00 one night on Interstate 40 near Santa Rosa, NM.

This trailer, like its predecessors, had transported our life as we knew it then all over the country. It was the guardian of the sets and costumes for our theatrical shows, as well as extra clothing, tools and supplies for the RV, and other odds and ends — mostly odds. It was a strange sensation to watch it pull away, with life-size photos of ourselves as Red Riding Hood and the Wolf and other characters on the side, and leave us behind.

During the previous 25 years or so, it would have been hard to imagine life on the road without being shadowed by a trailer. But now, that reality was suddenly upon us, bringing a tear or two along with it. But as it would turn out, getting rid of our garage on wheels would considerably soften the blow of getting rid of our house on wheels — a major life passage we knew was coming soon.

6/2-4/2023