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Outdoor Life: Nothin’ finer than an eating extravaganza campout with friends
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Anonymous user Wed May 3, 2006 06:51:21 PDT
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0 responses 0 comments I was determined to put aside some weekends for us to get out of town with our camper and enjoy the great outdoors that Cheryl and I are so passionate about.
It’s not that we’re such social butterflies, but sometimes you just need to pencil in on your calendar some get-out-of-town-for-a-weekend time.
Occasionally, it takes a wake-up call like getting the news that a close friend dropped dead in midstream of the rat race. News like that reiterates what we already know, but often forget in our day to day lives of work, chores, politics and family.
I believe we all have a date with eternity and there’s no sneak preview for any of us when that day or moment will arrive. I say, “Live like it’s your last day on earth, because it may be.”   
The word “camping” is now written in the date squares of our calendars on our fridge and at work for various weekends that we’ve set aside to get away.  
We set a date and planned our trip with my friend, Joe Rivas to our secret, undisclosed camping location with Joe and his wife, Tracy. Also in the plan were our friends, Ralph Tena and his wife, Gabby, their two kids and dog Ransom.
Cheryl’s sister, Judy and her three grandkids drove over for the day on Saturday. It was going to be a classic Norman Rockwell weekend with our friends putting on a food spread unmatched by any buffet in the state.
As I’ve written about previously, part of the joy of camping is the anticipation, planning and preparation for such a journey.
I find myself falling asleep at night to thoughts of riding my dirt bike down some isolated trail somewhere with the sights, sounds and smells of our next camping trip, or walking out the door of our Lance camper with a steaming cup of Joe as the sun comes up.
I asked Cheryl to help me pull out our truck and camper as the space along the side of our house is a little tight.
“Honey, will you please watch the back of the camper to make sure I don’t hit the eaves of the house or something?” I asked. I should have made clear what I meant by “or something.”
As the truck is slowly moving down the side yard, Cheryl is directing me.
“OK, you can cut it now, you’re clear,” she said.
Then that sound … Creeeeetch!
“Stop, stop!” she yells, “You’re up against the gate.”
I got out of the cab. Doh!
Yep, one of the bolts of the gate hinge had punched a nice hole in the fiberglass side of the camper.
“I thought you were watching the back?!” I quipped.
“You told me to watch the eaves,” she replied.
What we have here is a failure to communicate.
I counted to 10 and reassured her that it was really my fault as I was the driver and I should have been more careful.
That weekend camping with the Rivas and the Tenas was one of our most memorable. It was an eating extravaganza!
Eating sandwiches and chips together outside the entrance to Burro Schmidt’s tunnel northeast of Red Rock Canyon and my new campsite favorites prepared by our friends, ceviche (Good stuff! Shrimp cooked by lemon juice), carne asada and “all the fixin’s,” plus Cheryl’s chocolate pudding desert did, in fact, make for a Norman Rockwell moment.
And about that hole in the side of the camper — I’ll find a decal of some kind to cover that.
Much like the book title, “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (and It’s All Small Stuff).”
Happy Trails!        
E-mail Dick at: rdtusmc@msn.com

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