Going...going...gone!

Well, the day has finally arrived. It's Friday, June 10th, 2005, late in the evening. I've been a full-time RVer for twelve hours: since 10:48 this morning, when I locked the door of my condo, climbed into Gertie and drove away for the last time. The day was gray, gloomy, hot and disgustingly muggy, and despite a cool shower just before leaving, I was sweating copiously as I loaded Marie's litter pan and food dishes into Gertie. Then I carried Marie herself out to the rig and pulled out of Twin Rivers without even looking back. Swinging onto the New Jersey Turnpike, I headed north for Cape Cod, where I was already a day late for the spring get-together of my friends in the Northeastern Lazy Daze club.

Yes, I postponed my departure. The get-together started yesterday, but there was just no way I could get everything done in time. I would have had to leave at 6:00 p.m. and arrive at one in the morning...if I didn't fall asleep at the wheel. I'm not that crazy! Besides, I had excuses. My mechanics took an extra day to do all the things that needed doing. (Not their fault; their emissions tester went on the blink.) So I decided that as long as I didn't miss the weekend's activities, I'd be OK.

The past couple of days have been a blur of exhaustion. My friends Gary and Linda Oliaro were a big help with packing the last few items, mounting the bike rack on Gertie, ferrying me around to the storage room and elsewhere...and most important, providing moral support to keep me going. Otherwise I might have curled up into a ball and gone to sleep.

What a chore moving has been! As the old saying about projects has it, the last 10% seemed to take as long as the first 90%. What amazes me about this whole business is that it was so wearing, even though by comparison with others who've done this, I had it easy! First, I had a small two-bedroom apartment to pack up—not a three-story house. Second, the place sold almost instantly, and at a higher price than I was asking—no months of showings, no stressful negotiations, no deals falling through (all of which have happened to friends of mine). Third, my car also sold almost instantly, at the price I was asking—and the buyers even let me keep it until almost the very last minute. In short, everything went more smoothly than I could possibly have hoped...yet I was still wrung out emotionally and physically by the time it was through.

The condo was completely empty when I locked the door for the last time, except for a few lamps I left behind for the new owners. Poor Marie had seen her world disappear before her eyes, until there was literally nothing left...just big empty rooms and a small cat wandering around wondering where everything went. She's not in great shape—the vet gave me special prescription food to help her weak kidneys, and says I must inject her with 150 ml of saline twice a week as well. That's a painful process for both of us, but one that will extend her life...so it's well worth doing.

Fortunately, Marie has taken to traveling better than I had ever expected. At first I kept her in her 2' x 2' x 2' Pet Tent, and she meowed unhappily—she probably thought we were making yet another trip to the vet. Every hour or so I'd stop to give us both a bathroom break, and I'd gently place her in her litter pan (in the shower stall) just so she'd know where it was. She quickly got the idea. Who says you can't teach an old cat new tricks?

But the third time I got underway again, I forgot to zip the Pet Tent all the way, and pretty soon Marie came wriggling out, showing more energy than I knew she had. After nosing around a bit, she settled down between the driver's and passenger's seats, and spent the rest of the eight-hour trip quietly snoozing there. Road bumps, swerves, traffic noises...nothing seemed to bother her. No carsickness either. What a relief!

As always, my faithful GPS navigator Mabel gave me flawless directions to Cape Cod. Mabel is a Garmin StreetPilot 2610, and without her I would be hopelessly lost much of the time. If you've read all these journals, you know that I've used various tricks and gadgets over the years to help make up for my appallingly bad sense of direction...but Mabel is the navigator I've always dreamed of. She knows all the streets and roads in the US, and speaks directions in a reassuring voice so that I don't even have to take my eyes off the road. If I make a wrong turn, Mabel doesn't get upset; she quickly figures out how to get back on course and tells me. She also tells me, with surprising accuracy, exactly when I'm going to arrive. I would not have thought of asking for this feature, but it has turned out to be very handy.

I'm so grateful for Mabel's calm, unfailingly accurate directions that lead me through mazes of streets and roads that otherwise would have me driving in circles. (I mean that literally—ask my friends!) Mabel gives me the courage to go places I would not otherwise dare to try as a solo driver. I named the unit "Mabel" even though I'm not in the habit of giving names to objects, because I found myself talking back to it: it would say "In 500 feet, enter roundabout...then take third exit," and I'd say "Yes, Mabel," or "Thank you, Mabel."

When I pulled into Scusset Beach State Reservation around 7:00 p.m. tonight, I was very tired. The site is cool and breezy, though the humidity is still close to 70%. And it's level, which saved me the trouble of putting out the ramps. I made myself a quick western omelet for supper, and had just barely finished it when there was a knock on the door.

It was Mary Ellen Matthew, our wagonmaster for this get-together. She welcomed me and said everybody had been worried when I didn't show up yesterday. (I had posted a message to the Yahoo Lazy Daze group past night saying I'd be late, but apparently nobody here at Scusset Beach read it—"We were too busy having fun!") Mary Ellen handed me a folder with all the information on this event.

Within five minutes Gertie was surrounded by a dozen or more of my friends from the group, all asking me whether I was OK, how it felt to be a fulltimer, how Marie is doing... It felt wonderful, after all the stress of leaving, to be surrounded by friendly, supportive RVers. What great people!

I'm going to turn in now and try to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow there's coffee and cakes from 7:30-8:30, followed by a three-hour cruise on the Cape Cod Canal. In the afternoon I should have a chance to organize Gertie a little better—though it will undoubtedly take a week or more to really get her the way I want her. And since this campsite is flat and has unobstructed views in all directions, I'm going to give the Dustyfoot satellite internet system a try. And tomorrow night there's the potluck supper, followed by the traditional silent auction, which I'll lead for the last time.

For better or worse, I'm on my way.