I can explain. I’ve either been busy having a lot of fun (Palm Desert with Cousin #2; Quartzsite; Aja AZ for a fiddlers’ contest) or too down. However, I turned a corner last week; I had an epiphany: An RV means dealing with one thing after another. Always and forever. My search for a state of grace, in which all necessary repairs are completed and nothing major will malfunction for the next XX months, is illusionary. My new affirmation is, “As long as I’m in the U.S. and can get towed to an RV campsite, I can deal with it.”
My acceptance was bolstered by a friend who assured me that when their RV was brand new, and she was traveling with her mechanically-inclined husband, who could fix most problems, they still had to be towed several times.
More About Quartzsite
Quartzsite is a location in Arizona. It’s also an annual event of huge proportions, involving the onslaught of up to a million RV’ers who, for free, boondock (camp with no electricity; no disposal of garbage; and no source of water apart from your 20+ fresh water tank) on Arizona BLM land. Quartzsite means “The Tent.” Imagine a country fair with three long rows of vendors marketing to RV’ers.
Quartzsite also means lots of various and sundry RV affinity groups camping together. I camped RVW (RV’ing Women) and WINs (Wondering Individuals Network) and participated in events with LOWs (Loners on Wheels) and Escapees. RV’ers also gather according to their type of rig (Lazy Daze, Winnebago, Airstream) to compare notes and hold Open Houses to see owner customizations.
When I mentioned to a friend that I had joined RVW over the summer, she informed me it was a gay group. Oh well, I thought, surely not everyone would be gay. When I read the RVW newsletter and realized the group was holding a round-up in Quartzsite and I would be in nearby Palm Springs a week earlier, I decided to go.
Although I continued to believe that surely not everyone would be gay, it did give me pause when I read that the RVW site would be immediately beyond the “Beaver” group. Just what IS the Beaver group, I wondered. Hard core lesbians? Turns out Beavers are a type of RV.
Upon arrival, I couldn’t help but notice that my short grey hair was significantly longer than most everyone else’s. Also, on more than one occasion, I saw people who from afar appeared to be men. Upon approach, however, they weren’t. Those cowboy boots and hats can certainly be deceiving, particularly when viewed atop a rugged four-wheel drive vehicle with two deep-voiced, profanity-spewing individuals and at least one large vicious-breed dog. Identifying women who didn’t play for the same team was not easy. In the end, I decided that those I suspected of hetero tendencies included the half-dozen recent widows and the woman I became friendly with who said, incredulously, “Tell me that really IS a man.” It was. I had actually asked myself the same question when I spotted him. In case you think her reaction wasn’t conclusive, there was further proof (the incidents would take too long to tell).
I attended RVW workshops featuring topics such as fire (I stocked up on three new fire extinguishers; bought flares; and learned I’ll need to get out the RV, with the dog, in under 20 seconds); and tips on traveling full-time. I also attended an RVW Solos Group, where we introduced ourselves and briefly presented our backgrounds and interest in RV’ing. When it was my turn, I flatly declared, “It’s been one fucking thing after another.” Much knowing laughter ensued. I’ve been told my proclamation is now used by several Solos.
I hope they, too, can come to graciously accept it.