December 17, 2016
The RV park office wasn't open when I left Naples this morning, so I called from the road to inquire about returning on January 16th when my month's stay in Melbourne Beach ends. I was informed that there is no availability, so I was waitlisted. It is $500 more per month to stay in Naples than MB, so even if a spot opens I don't know how I can justify the expense.
I drove through Okeechobee en route to the beach. There's just nothing to see in Florida unless you are driving down the coast while going over a bridge. I stopped at a Pilot to get propane, since neither the park in Naples nor the one in MB fill tanks. The kid who helped me had a bit of trouble with the connectors, so I was there about twice as long as I wanted to be.
When I registered at the MB park around four this afternoon, I extended my reservation on the site for an additional month. I have to commit to it (make a deposit) by the 26th of December, or I will risk losing the option to stay. Ten days will give me enough time to assess this park further and to look for alternatives farther north on the Atlantic coast.
I hooked up the electric, turned on the AC, and I took the dogs for a long walk. I saw the couple who gave Kate and me a tour of their 5th-wheel-lanai-patio-retirement-complex sitting on their patio, and I reintroduced myself. They gave me the low-down on aqua fitness and other activities which are not on the official schedule. I'll see her next on Monday at the stretching class at nine.
I returned the dogs to air-conditioned BOB, then I continued setting up, washed BOB's face, put my bike together, and set up the table and chairs. In the middle of it, a woman walked by with her two miniature schnauzer litter mates. Her dogs are 10-and-a-half years old, are blind, have skin issues, and the male's ears were filthy with mites. Addison and Jasper smelled them and started to bark. She said she used to breed Westies a long time ago. Meeting them reminded me to be grateful that my kids are healthy, obnoxious as they are.
It was after six when I started the interior portion of encamping BOB. I fed the dogs and put away the non-perishable groceries. I wired the cable box and had one minute of undesired collegiate basketball before the screen became FUBAR. I finished my interior chores, took a shower, and then retried the connection to no avail. I Googled the provider, tried calling, gave up, and Googled, "Is spectrum cable out in Melbourne Beach?" I found a site called www.downdetector.com, and it said that the cable is out across all of central Florida. Fabulous.
It occurred to me that while my new "friends" in the Naples RV park encouraged me to return, none invited me to join in any social gatherings. Perhaps they all have busy lives, or perhaps they don't host gatherings. I don't know. If I spent the extra money to go back there, would I ever be invited to drinks or dinner? I could cook for them, but I can't plate more than four servings, since that's all the table- and flat-ware I have. Will anyone here invite me to anything personal? I don't know. I'm here for a month or two, but I'm not here for the season. And, I'm alone, and younger, and…
And, I like to move. I like to travel. I like to drive BOB as well as live in him. A few weeks ago, when Powerball was worth nearly half a billion dollars, I had the thought that if I won it I could go live in various European cities for a year at a time: Rome, Paris, London, Vienna, Stockholm, etc. When would it end? Five years? Ten? Money or no money, it's interesting that my first instinct is to move, to travel, not to have roots. Maybe, that's why I bought BOB in what seemed to be an uncharacteristically impulsive decision. Maybe, it wasn't impulsive: maybe, it's just in my DNA.
Leave a Reply.
Siobhan M. Knox
In May 2016, I bought a five ton, 25’ long Class C motorhome because I like to drive, I like to travel, and it’s more fun and less expensive than living in a hotel. No prior RV experience was required, and I had none: perfect. I’m writing a book about my adventures which will come to an end when I get a job. The dogs will be sad.