Camping Daze

I’m not interested in camping at all. I’ve done it. The last time was sometime in the early 80s, but even then, I wasn’t “camping” any more. The ex and I had a 1972 VW camper van and that’s paradise on wheels, actually. If I had one now I’d use it. It was great. It had higher clearance than does Bella, my Jeep. Among other places, we took it all over the Anza Borrego Desert in California on weekends. It was unlikely it would get stuck in a sandy wash, either. The engine was over the back wheels. Sadly it died, as many of them did, from a giant crack in the block. That crack was so big that when we stopped on the 15 because of black smoke coming out of the tailpipe (we were on our way to Big Bear to ski) and opened the hood, we could see the crack and the oil oozing out…

Dark times. Dark times.

I wish I had it now. I think. Yeah.

For the part of a couple summers I was a counselor at my church camp. I was a counselor in the “primitive camp,” and while that name might give you visions of atavistic Baptist rituals or because it was a camp for middle schoolers, it just meant we slept ten in a big Army tent on cots, used an outhouse and cooked some of our meals over an open fire. I liked it a lot. It might have been my favorite job.

I might go camping again if I had a VW camper van, though. That was just great. From time to time I look at them on some car sales site and think, “What if???”

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/07/05/rdp-friday-camp/