Vicki's View: Rain in the camper

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By: Vicki Brown

When I was 16, my family bought a camper. Luckily, my front teeth had been knocked out in a car accident, so we used the insurance money to pay for it. We didn’t know beans about camping, but we were determined to learn.

Dad finally figured out how to pull it with the car, set it up, put in the sewage hose, and level it. He even learned how to back it up, using giant mirrors on each side of the car. They were almost the same size as the driver and passenger windows.

We always took the camper to Myrtle Beach. We had some wonderful times there and thoroughly enjoyed the camping lifestyle, until I saw “Jaws” and refused to go back in the water.

Dad would cook bacon and eggs for breakfast on the Coleman stove near the picnic table, and mom would set up a slow cooker full of spaghetti for dinner. Then we would all head to the beach or pool for the day. Honestly, this was more like glamping because we had an air conditioner and all the comforts of home inside.

My husband and I thought that a camper would be awesome and convenient with our two young sons. They could ride their bikes in the campground and be perfectly safe. I had enjoyed camping with my parents, so I knew my husband and kids would love it, too.

We found a used camper we could afford and purchased it. Parked it in our driveway and I put in new wallpaper and curtains that would have made Martha Stewart proud. The upholstery was new, so I just gave it a thorough cleaning. Cleverly, I decided to add some boards, blocks, and cushioning across an aisle floor to create a king-sized bed. We installed a window AC unit and had a friend haul it to the beach where we would then store it for the winter.

On our first trip, everything went well. The campground had a tent section and a camper section, with the campers parked nearer to the ocean and pool. The kids had a blast, and we felt that we had made a great choice in camping. We were in blissful ignorance, thinking that everything would go well the next time. We couldn’t have been more wrong.

On our second vacation with the camper, it started raining at Myrtle Beach and continued for three days. There were four inches of water in the campground. Our small skylight began to leak. My husband, knowing very little about fixing things, found out from the guy at the camper next door, that tar would work on our roof, and sealant would do fine around the skylight. He loaned us the tools and materials, and we went to work.

Confident that everything was fixed, we went to bed that night feeling relieved that all was well.

It started raining in the middle of the night, and then increased into what seemed like a cloudburst. Laying there in our cozy king-sized bed, we really didn’t mind the rain…until the skylight crashed in right over our bed. Everything was soaked, including me.

My husband went out and purchased a tarp, threw it over the camper and tied it down. We looked like the Beverly Hillbillies on steroids. I went to the laundry mat and washed and dried our bed clothes and sheets while setting a fan on the cushions to dry them out.

Our AC started leaking inside the camper, and not working properly so the camper became hot and musty. Our elderly dog started wheezing and coughing, so we took him to the vet who cheerfully told us that he was an old dog and was going to die.

And it kept on raining.

By then, I had enough. After only three days, we packed up, went home, buried our beloved dog, and sold the camper.

But you know something? I only remember the bad vacations, not the good ones.

It’s vacations like this that make you really appreciate the normal ones. We can look back now and laugh, but it wasn’t so funny then.

I will never forget what my husband said as we were leaving the campground after those horrible few days. We looked over at the 4 inches of standing water throughout the entire place and he said, “Well, at least we weren’t in a tent.”