Elephant Butte Lake, New Mexico
You don’t need to read many of my blog entries to know that I love living in my 17-foot travel trailer with my two canine pals. I love everything about my new lifestyle! I’m not envious in the least of the big and beautiful motorhomes that I see in campgrounds, nor the permanent homes in towns or the countryside. I’m happy, enjoying each day, and grateful for what I have.
Today I’m reminded how fortunate I am.
The crew and I usually take a very long walk every morning, lasting about an hour to an hour-and-a-half. Later, around noontime, after the crew has napped, we go for a shorter walk around the campground.
Well, we’re on our after-lunch walk. It’s a bit nippy out and windy. I have on my winter coat. We come upon a campsite with only a car in it. In one glance I notice a woman in her fifties or sixties sitting in the driver’s seat. An electric cord runs from her car window to the electrical post. The car is full of stuff, up to the ceiling in the back seat, and a few garbage bags of stuff are on her picnic table. I see this in only a glance. I turn my eyes away. I don’t want to stare. My God, is she living in her car?
There’s a world of difference between fulltiming and “living in your car.”
Some people choose to live a vagabond life. Some convert a van or even a car into a home on wheels. They use a lot of creativity and inventiveness to equip their vehicle for living “on the road.” They are well-prepared for new places and day-to-day challenges.
Sometimes people do this because they’re sick of the rat race or have lost the ability to cope with it, and want the freedom to live each day in their own way. They want to go where they want whenever they want. Their income may be very small so they compensate with thrift, resourcefulness and a can-do attitude.
To these folks I say, “Good for you! Live your life the way you want!”
However, it’s obvious this lady is not “fulltiming.”
The crew and I take our after-supper walk around the campground. Instead of walking on the campground road, for a change we take part of Luchini Trail. It goes behind the campsites. I’m not thinking about the lady in the car until I see something that shocks me into her reality. There’s no back window in the car! All across the back of the car is a piece of plastic where the window once was. How is she going to keep warm tonight? It’s 60 degrees now, and it’ll be down to 37-38 degrees tonight, and windy! There isn’t even room to lie down!
I wish I could help her.
Now that Bridget and Spike are aware that I can send light beams out from my head, they — mostly Spike — insist on taking me on an after-dark walk around the campground. Again, guys? Okay. Let me get my caplight. It’s about six o’clock. The lady’s campsite is dark. I imagine her sitting in her drafty car with a little heater for warmth.
I can’t get her out of my mind. Does she have a destination, the house of a family member or friend? Is she running away from someone or something? I pray to God she doesn’t have to live like this. My heart breaks thinking of her in that old car, while I’m inside my comfortable and cozy home.
There but for the grace of God . . . .
The photos in today’s post show how the desert looks in the light of a cold and cloudy November morning. When the crew and I walked up to the lake road this morning, we found soft and subtle colors and shapes all around. The desert is beautiful. I’m glad we’re here.
rvsue
rvsue and her canine crew 