A Pirate Attack and a Lack of Provisions

(Our weekend roadtrip in the RV started with a misadventure Friday.)

After buying provisions for an RV trip to Stephen F. Austin State Park in San Felipe, Texas; after packing up everything we would need for the trip (even the dog’s little cold-weather coat); after knowing I’d left the RV full of fuel and in ready shape after my trip to Mississippi and Louisiana—well, after all that, we find ourselves with an ailing RV and no supper . . . or at least a somewhat meager supper.

The misadventure began when the Bosun fired up the RV at the lot at which we store her. The RV roared to life . . . like wailed . . . like trumpeted with her entire spirit.

“Was it this loud when you had her in New Orleans?” the Bosun asked me.

“Um-mm. Not even close.” I shook my head.

Boat Dog cowered into me as the noise continued.

And the RV just kept hollering.

Recognizing we could do nothing to address the issue in the RV storage lot, I asked the Bosun if he’d pulled all the bags out of the car and loaded the RV. He affirmed he had. And we simply hit the road with a clap of thunder (more like a continuous roll of thunder).

At the state park, under the moss-hung trees and with the sun setting in pink and tawny, we discovered two things:

  1. Pirates had raided the RV for its catalytic converter. So that explained the noise. (When I lived in Michigan, catalytic-converter theft presented quite a problem for city dwellers. Urban pirates would go down a line of cars parked on the street, swiping the catalytic converters for scrap money.)

  2. The Bosun had left a bag of groceries “somewhere,” a bag that had contained the lemon cake I’d been looking forward to enjoying; the jalapeño-cheese bread I’d so carefully chosen to complement the soups aboard; the sparkly-water beverages I enjoy as a treat; Boat Dog’s food; and sundry items. (Note: Our car resembles a golf cart. Beats me how one can “lose” a stuffed canvas bag of goodies in about three cubic feet of space.)

Worry not, though—I keep a new, unopened bag of dog food aboard for just such exigencies. So Boat Dog got his full supper.

I, on the other hand, had to “make do.” And the Bosun? Well, he’s doing his penance in the form of Rummikub tonight (he’s not a fan, but boy, he’s gonna play his heart out tonight because I luv the game).

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