Traveling across America without killing each other

Don’t mess with me! If you’re a hose

1st September 2021
Recap of Travelling around America without killing each other… 
We had to move campsite… I mean, that was pretty much it… 

So… We had to move a whopping two spaces down from where we originally had landed. Personally, I felt kind of silly packing up the entire camper just to move about 70 feet or less. But have you tried moving a camper without buttoning it up first? Even just a foot? It’s madness. Absolute chaos. It looks like you just tried to give your cat a bath in the toilet and let it loose afterwards.
Yes, we’ve tried that before.
Moving the camper, not bathing a cat. 

Before we got settled into our new spot for the next few days, we had to empty and fill our tanks. Off we went on a little excursion around the park. The boys were all excited, ears pricked, eyes alert, sniffers sniffing. “Yay!” they said. “What new sights and smells are we going to encounter next?” 

As we were emptying the stinky tank, Patrick barked orders, making sure we were doing it correctly. Just as we were putting the stinky slinky away, it started to rain. Not the little pitter patter of rain. No. It was a bloody monsoon. The heavens opened and emptied their tanks. Hubs said we should wait until it stopped raining and then fill our water tank. I was already soaked at this point, so figured screw it… let’s just get it done. 

I flexed my girly muscles and got back out of the truck. Connecting the hose to the tap was easy enough, even sticking it in the tank hole was the easy part. But this is where I learnt one of camping life’s greatest lessons, and why filling your water tank is a two people job. 

When I pulled the lever up to switch on the water, that hose whipped out of the tank hole faster than you can say tank hole! It then threw itself around like a miffed snake caught by the tail, spraying water everywhere. Up the side of the camper, across the truck, soaking other campers. Thankfully, it was still raining, thus everyone was blissfully unaware of the chaos happening outside their doors. 

While I was outside fighting this out of control hose, hubs and the boys were inside the truck jamming away to Journey, or Bob Seger. 

After performing an exorcism on the hose, I managed to fill the tank. However, I still had to go back to the tap to turn it off, which wouldn’t be a problem if it was next to the road.
Noooo, that would be too easy!
The tap is actually half a mile away, in the grass, which is now more like a marsh. 

I geared myself up, got the blood pumping, grazed my hand down my face (mostly to get the water off,) bounced on my feet… and went for it. 

I ran, pumping my legs as fast as I could. The adrenaline pumped like fire scorching my veins, but with my clothes all soggy and heavy, it was like trying to run in a suit of armour. Behind me, I could hear the demonic voice of the hose, giving me a 10 second head start. But then it laughed manically and started spraying everywhere again. The worst of it, it actually stopped raining so anyone getting sprayed this time would know it was the culprit, and I would be shunned from camping society for letting this happen. 

As I hit the grass, my feet squelched in the mud and now did like a scluuulop, sound, and slowed my pace. But I continued to run as fast as I could, drawing ever closer to the tap! I reached out for it, my fingers grazing the metal when, “Ahh!” I screamed, as the spray of water sliced across my back. Not because it hurt, but because it was bloody freezing! 
I slammed the lever down, and the hose dropped to the ground with a plonk. Not a thud, but a plonk. 
Panting and quivering, I laughed feebly. I had won! Hurrah! 
I felt like Rocky after he fought Apollo.

I now resembled a drowned rat. And as I opened the truck door, the looks I got from both hubs and the boys you’d think I had been wrestling a wild boar, with blood dripping from my limbs. “You look a bit wet,” hubs said. 

Not my best look 😐


Patrick would sit with me, because I was wet! And Jake wanted to know what was wrong with me? Why would I purposely take a shower if I hadn’t rolled in anything stinky? 

None of them knew the danger they were in and that I had heroically defeated the possessed hose.

Much love,
Robyn

3 thoughts on “Don’t mess with me! If you’re a hose”

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