Would you care for some lemonade?

As the title might suggest, we harvested a rather large bushel of lemons during our travel day on Thursday.  All started well, and after an uneventful trip from Lake George to Marshalls Creek, PA, we arrived and immediately began to pick those lemons.

The campsite we were assigned was a back-in site rather than the pull-through we requested.  It was short – long enough to accommodate the rig, but not open the ramp to get the bike out.  Tim dropped the ramp before attempting to back in and parked the bike on an adjacent site.  After a few attempts, we realized it was futile due to the overwhelming number of trees growing close to the access to the site.  They bowed over the road, which made it an extreme hazard to the roof of the 5er.  First site was a no-go.

Tim walked back to the office and informed them that the site was unsuitable due to the size/height of our rig, and they assigned another close by, the only other one that would be available for the weekend.  It was a much deeper site, but again, the tree cover was ridiculous.  After numerous attempts, and near misses on the roof again, we knew it was not going to work.  He called another campground about 15 miles or so down the road, and they had pull-through sites available, although quite a bit more expensive than what we were reserved for at the current site.  We told them to hold a site for us and we would be there in a bit.

Backing up time-wise, in the midst of attempting to back into the 2^nd site, the heavens opened up and poured buckets on me, on the bike, and on our spirits.  I scurried back into the truck to escape the downpour, and then, after the rain stopped, Tim dropped the ramp to load the bike again.  Here’s where the lemons began dropping off the proverbial tree.  The ramp was wet, the bike was wet, and the throttle was wet.  Having to accelerate quite a bit to get up the ramp (which is roughly at a 45 degree angle) and then stop immediately is a delicate dance.  With the wet bike, wet ramp, and wet throttle, that immediate stop did not happen.  The rack that the front wheel of the bike straps into wasn’t enough to stop it, and the bike bent the rack, jumped it, and crashed through the glass slider that separates the garage from the living area.  No physical injury done, and the bike was strapped down as best he could so we could get out of the campground from hell.  Tim stopped by the office to inform them that the sites were not accessible, and that we would be leaving.  They did say they will refund the fee.

We arrived at the 2^nd campground about an hour later, tired, hot, sweaty, soaked, stressed, hungry, and thirsty.  No one was in the office, despite them telling us that they would be there until 5:00 (it was 4:40 at that point), so we drove in and found a pull-through site that was unnumbered, yet very accessible for us.  Once we got unhitched and set up, not to mention got the cats settled into the bedroom with the door shut to prevent them from getting into the glass, we set about cleaning up the huge mess.  Along with the shattered glass, the bike tipped over in transit, so we also had spilled gas on the rubberized flooring of the garage.  After about 2 hours of sweeping, vacuuming, sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, vacuuming, mopping again, we both were in desperate need of showers, let alone food.

Never underestimate the power of a hot shower – it did make me feel so much better!  Food, however, was not a great comfort.  I ate a few peanut butter crackers and drank a glass of milk, only to finally realize that I was too wound up to eat.  Ah well, there’s always enough girth to live off for another 12 hours!

Morning came, and with it, the realization that we’re ok, and nothing terrible happened.  We also agreed that perhaps it was time to give up the bike.  The challenge of loading and unloading it with each stopover is more than was anticipated.  The thrill of riding isn’t quite what it once was, especially on unfamiliar roads, so we’re going to make arrangements to sell it next week.  It’s been a great ride, one that Tim has been happy to be able to have had.  But, when it’s time to hang up the helmet, it’s time.

We also had to make the depressing decision to tell Cathi not to come visit us.  Between the smell of gas (which fortunately has diminished a bit more than earlier today), the lack of privacy with the slider being gone, and the current campground having zero amenities, other than an outdoor pool that’s closed, it wasn’t going to be much fun (compared to the other campground having an indoor pool and hot tub!)  We regret having to tell her not to come, but all things considered, it’s for the best.

Rather than staying here, at an over-priced (whenever we can finally track down someone in the office to actually register and pay!) campground with nothing to do and no local attractions to visit, we decided to head to our next stop 5 days early.  It’s a choice we both are happy with, and we’ll be able to sell the bike there.  

Deciding to unload all of the above here in my lovely little blog is not something I did to elicit sympathy, rather to document our travels.  All of our travels.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  Truth be told, stuff happens, whether you live on the road or in a “sticks and bricks” house.  We all know someone who has had those “uh-oh” moments, like backing into a light post or jersey barrier in a parking lot, hitting the gas instead of the brake and driving through a garage door, driving over a curb.  This is no different, and knowing that is what has made this ordeal a whole lot easier to absorb.

So, grab a glass and fill it up with ice, because I’m serving up a pretty big pitcher of lemonade.  And it tastes great!