If you can read this bumper sticker, I've lost my trailer.

As I may have mentioned a million times, I love to travel. And I love to travel by car, not by plane. If you’re not one of the lucky few who have flown with me, be grateful. I will say that it often includes a brown paper bag, Xanax and a little plastic bottle of wine. I don’t care if it’s 7am.

Fear of flying notwithstanding, I have always chosen road trips anyhow. When we were younger, my parents where the royal couple of road trips. We took trips all over, which often included some sort of disaster along the way. But some of those disasters amount to hilarious memories that we have now. I had quickly discovered that, in addition to inheriting my father’s height and my mother’s nose, I’ve inherited the disastrous vacation gene. Disastrous may be too strong of a word. So I’ll use “challenging”.

I mentioned in a previous post that I recently bought an RV. This seemed ideal enough, since I’m traveling pretty extensively this summer out West. And given that I’m a nature lover, the idea of waking up in the middle of the Rocky Mountains and opening my RV door to see snow capped mountains while I have my coffee? Dreamy with a capital D. Sounds so romantic, don’t you think?

So you can see how actually having to TOUCH the previously referred to “shitter” (aka the sewer hookup) did not align with my romantic vision. Either did the downpour that wasn’t in the forecast. Or the blinking dashboard indicator on the Ford that kept saying “TRAILER DISCONNECTED”.  Or the breaking of the jack stands to level the RV, which resulted in a slightly crooked and wobbly RV. I felt like I was in a boat, with all the water and the wobbling. And I’ll tell you that I could have never been a chef in any kind of galley kitchen, because I stabbed, poked and tripped over myself. And then it led to the crashing realization that my ass really is as big as I think, as indicated by my inability to navigate around the kitchen table or “squeeze” by anyone including the dog.



Through the tears of my “big ass” epiphany, we did manage to take the kids to Knoebles, and all was right with the world. Even though it was a soggy, cold world. If you haven’t been there yet, you need to go. It fit in perfectly with my goal of living a bit more simplistically and less materialistically. You don’t pay any admission to the park, so grandparents can come along for free. You can pack a meal, or buy it there for a steal. Food and drinks were really affordable.  And the games down the shore that cost you $5 to play, and all you really get is the feeling that you’re a sucker? You can feel like a sucker at Knoebles for $.25! A quarter, people! I dumped all my change out of my bag that I’ve been meaning to cash in, and it kept my boy busy for a whole 10 minutes. That’s a lot for a hyperactive 6 year old boy, trust me. I got to eat my pierogies in peace!!  

You have the option of an all day “all you can ride” pass for $31, or you can buy tickets like you would at a carnival. We opted for all day passes for the kids, and a pack of tickets for the adults. It worked perfectly.  http://www.knoebels.com/carousel-roller-coaster.asp  You don’t pay for parking, you can pack a lunch, bring the grandparents and step back in time. And with such affordable prices, you can even splurge on the $2 rain poncho. Just in case.