I prepared myself for the upcoming weekend by running through different scenarios in my head. Umma (Mom), Apa (Dad), Butters and I living in a 19 foot Airstream Bambi for several days…the possibilities were endless.
My parents exhibited a wide range of emotions when I invited them to head into the wild with Bambi. Apa was thrilled and suggested Mt. Shasta. Umma was perplexed/anxious and asked 1) How will we sleep in the trailer? 2) How do we use the bathroom? 3) Is it safe? Note, the word “it” to Umma, means everything. 4) What would we eat?
After the fourth or so question, I tuned her out and focused on a mental checklist about what food I would need to buy before our trip.
The four of us packed up the Touareg, hitched up Bambi (this time, it took me a mere 15 minutes instead of an hour to connect) and we were towing toward Shasta. We drove along dusty I-5, passing hundreds of acres of farm land. Soon the Touareg’s windshield and the top of Bambi was covered with a colony of dead bugs.
After being on the road for some time, we pulled over at a rest area and parked next to a big rig RV. The man who owned the rig was headed to Oregon with his wife. He and his wife had been living fulltime in their rig for 8 years.
He commented on how “cute” my set up was. I told him this was my first time taking a trip with my parents and I was sure it would be “interesting.”
The man said to me, “I’m sure it will be interesting because doing anything with parents is always interesting.”
Rest stop along I5.