TRAILER PUSHUPS, TWO SETS

In a teardrop camper, with my two dogs, Oliver and Miss Kitty, off I towed to Flowing Lake, Snohomish, Washington.  My spot had electricity and water, and plenty of privacy, as it was in a thickly wooded, uphill climb that led from the beautiful, placid lake.  I watched videos and patrolled my particular trailer's forum, T@B, and found a Facebook page just for T@B enthusiasts, cramming information about what and how and don't -- all in the weeks leading up to my two night venture, thirty miles down the road.  This trip marked the beginning of something unknown but important for me, and I didn't want to hurt anybody in the process of towing.

I noticed today, as I returned from my trip, that I had no opportunities to focus on my loneliness, my aloneness, my widowness, or anything else in my ordinary life.  Even though I had plenty of solitude, down time, quiet time and slow time, this escape from ordinary life allowed my grief wounds to heal for the longest stretch of time I think I have had in seven years.  Maybe it was the being in the woods that took over my mind.  Even the black birds and robins looked more relaxed than they do in my back garden.

Mishaps:  I am a rookie trailer tower, set upper, live inner.  I packed wrong things and didn't pack important things.  The worst mistake I made was in failing to pin the lock down on my tow mechanism.  Two times on the way home, when going over speed bumps, my un-pinned lock released the tow, and Lola, my teardrop camper, was on the ground.  Luckily, I was only traveling about five miles per hour each time.  I drove as close to zero miles per hour for the thirty miles back to my dealer.  That's when I found out the extra pin I had wasn't an extra.  I swear that no video or forum ever mentioned the pin through the lock.  That needs to be in the owner's manual.  I sent an email to Little Guys, who make the T@B. 

Best:  For a few hours on Monday, I walked a wooded trail with two of my grandchildren, Luke and Lily, and my son-in-law, Scott.  Walking through an old forest is healing.  It's a wrap.  Something supernatural gets below the skin, penetrates.  Each grandchild had one of my dogs to tend.  Being with four completely innocent beings (not me.  not Scott.), in an essentially primordial setting, suited me.  There were no racing thoughts.  My nature changed temporarily.  I had enough.  I felt enough.  I wasn't planning anything. 

When I arrived home, the backing-in production began and I made it okay.  My neighbor, Ken, complimented me.  I told him I couldn't get the hitch wheel on because my wheel post was burred from being on the hard asphalt during the second aforementioned mishap.  He used his grinder to fix it.  Gratitude.  He said he thought I had a good first trip.  "But I didn't pin my hitch lock!"  I said.  He told me, "Nobody got hurt.  On another occasion, you could have been perfect and a bad thing might have happened.  Just see it for what it is -- you had a good first go and you learned." 

In my camper-trailer, I have serious stuff that is up to only me.  This has a grounding effect on me.  I haven't felt like half of something broken for more than two days.  I felt completely responsible for solving all my problems, not panicking when my trailer hit the ground, not thinking about anything but the present moment.  I felt alive.

I'm home now, and going over all my mistakes, making better checklists.  I will be camping in September at Deception Pass with other T@B and teardrop campers I haven't met in person.  It's an "un-rally," which means a gathering with no formal leader/organizer.  There I hope to learn more tips and techniques.  This towing and camper business is something I want to master.  It's important to let people in just a crack who can teach me.  Maybe I can be a teacher some day.   In fact, the first thing I did when I got home and unpacked was to post my hitch lock pin experience on the forums.  It will help someone.