Tag Archives: Han Solo

Classic Post: Look Out, I’m Pulling a Camper!

This post first appeared on October 10, 2018.

Pulling a camper is like being followed by a shadow that’s gained 2,000 pounds.

Sure, I’ve spelled my husband en route to nearby campgrounds. When straight roads send him to Lullaby Land, I save our lives by driving short stretches on state highways.

But brave roaring, dragon-like semis on interstates? Motorcycles whipping in and out of lanes at Star Wars speeds? Han Solo, I’m not.

Especially as the rearview mirror is rendered useless.

My husband installed extended mirrors. However, they warn that reflected objects are closer than they appear.

That’s nice. Even humble, and I admire humility. But sorry, nice mirrors, when changing lanes, I want accuracy. And if up-close-and-personal encounters with construction barrels throw you off, I really don’t need views up my nostrils.

Especially when parking. We often need to stop for gas, food, and/or restrooms. Those paltry reasons pale, however, as we focus on more profound questions: Will we find a place to park the camper? Afterward, can we get out?

Once, as I contorted truck and camper in my 100th effort to leave a convenience store, Hubby lost all hope. “Will we spend the rest of our lives behind Kwickie Mart?”

Not exactly the retirement we’d envisioned.

I tried to console him: “Living on Little Debbie® cakes and beef jerky wouldn’t be so bad.”

My attempts scared traffic to a dead stop. A hundred yards away.

Thus, we finally left Kwickie Mart.

Hauling a camper never bores us. Once, while I was driving down South, purple-cloud giants charged us. They spit lightning and smothered us with avalanches of rain that drowned car taillights ahead. If I had risked pulling over, my flashers would have disappeared, blown out like candles.

Did I slow down? Not much. Storm or no storm, drivers who never drive less than 85 mph — on roads, shoulders and in parking lots — can be found everywhere. Even in easygoing Mississippi.

My prayer life shot up several notches.

Hubby’s, already flourishing, set new records.

Jesus took the wheel.

Afterward, when He had guided us to sunshine, Hubby tried to talk Jesus into taking all my shifts.

He smiled and said, no, we needed to grow in faith. Together.

Though Hubby still had theological doubts about Kwickie Mart experiences, and I struggled with mirror-nostril crises, we indeed have learned to depend on Jesus and each other. With His help, we and our 2,000-pound shadow return home, safe and sound.

We will hit the interstate again soon.

It’s only fair I give other drivers advance warning: Look out, I’ll be pulling a camper!

Prepare to grow in faith.

Your Extraordinary Ordinary: Have you ever pulled a camper? Driven an RV?

Star Wars Oldie, er, Veteran

My husband and I wait in line to see The Rise of Skywalker.

Annoyingly skinny and unwrinkled, few fellow moviegoers viewed the original film. I am seized with the urge to proclaim — complete with drumroll and spotlight — “I’ve seen every Star Wars movie since 1977.”

Hubby indicates where his sock hat will go if I do.

Spoilsport.

Ignoring him, I recall that first, magical night. A medical student then, Hubby orchestrated a rare evening off. We scraped together five dollars for tickets. Annoyingly skinny and unwrinkled, we stood in a long line.

That money could have bought more groceries. This had better be worth it.

“Daaa, da, da-da-da daaa, da. …”

The music captured me. When “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. …” crawled up the screen, I followed the words into dark, velvety space.

I was there.

Breathless.

By movie’s end, this Trekkie admitted Luke Skywalker and Han Solo could compete with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. Besides, Princess Leia defied an evil empire with battle savvy — keeping her clothes on, which I appreciated, even back in 1977.

Though I never would twist my long hair into weird side buns.

Hubby interrupts my reverie with ticket choices that didn’t exist 40 years ago. “3-D? Or IMAX?”

I’m cheap. Besides, running screaming from storm troopers doesn’t sound fun. 

As for IMAX — “If I collapse with a heart attack,” I say, “you can explain to the ER why four-story-high space slugs were a great idea.”

“Maybe D-BOX seats?”

Supposedly, full-motion chairs also would immerse us in the action.

“Not after that brunch,” I say.

Hubby agrees.

Finally purchasing plain old (senior) tickets, we find our theater, mostly inhabited by other moldy oldies and cheapskates.

Pre-movie blather runs on forever. This had better be worth it.   

“Daaa, da, da-da-da daaa, da. …”

Huge words crawl into dark, velvet space.

I am there.

Breathless.

New characters, plot twists, and weird, intergalactic creatures. Past characters we greet as longtime friends, old glitches, and familiar, weird intergalactic creatures.

All entangled in a horrible, wonderful battle of good versus evil. Despite radical cultural shifts the past four decades, those values remain.

I do like Princess Leia’s new hairdo.

Still, how can “young Skywalker” have aged so? And Carrie Fisher looks like a … a matron. 

Um, so do I. Unlike Yoda, we can’t live 900 years.

Despite gray hair, Hubby and I anticipate additional chapters in our own stories. Exciting chapters.

As will the annoyingly skinny and unwrinkled.

Whether young or old, and regardless of Star Wars sequels, prequels or equals, let’s all grab the nearest Wookiee and fly high into new adventures!

Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What’s your favorite Star Wars movie?