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This week while perusing today’s version of the Encyclopedia Britannica, ie, the internet, I happened across a page devoted to my High School’s alumni, both teachers and students. It was a trip down memory lane, replete with a long list of folks whose race with life has ended. It provoked feelings of sadness as well as warmth for the times some 54 years ago when life was simpler and being in the moment brought happiness and security. When you boil it down, not necessarily in the order of importance, my world involved study, girls, fast cars, baseball and nature. Let’s talk girls for a bit.

In 1968, things were different. There was a clear distinction between the sexes, something our current SCOTUS nominee apparently has failed to grasp. It is not entirely her fault that she refused to define a woman, although in a short conversation I am sure I can help her with her conundrum. Her intellectual dishonesty is appalling. With rare exception boys and girls worked damned hard to accentuate their individual characteristics as it related to their sexual identity. We tended to minimize our distractions and maximize our endowments, not change them. The rules, then, were simple. Today there is a birth control pill for men in final testing that’s has shown great promise in mice. In the day, from one end of a hallway to the other, it was pretty easy to discern a man or woman by their hairstyles. Today it is nearly impossible. Man buns didn’t exist. Mohawks on the ladies were not yet in vogue. In those days your clothing made determining gender easy, today it is very unreliable. In those days, when you veered into a restroom of the opposite sex, you got the hell out before trouble ensued. Do it twice and you were catalogued as weird or twisted and shunned. Sports ran along gender lines. I can’t remember a single instance of boys playing on women’s teams or vice versa. Our female student population relied on make up to enhance their facial femininity. Today’s men wear the stuff, a practice that would get you hurt in the locker rooms of old. In the day, when you signed up for a military hitch, your training followed established and vastly different training paths. A woman stepping into a pugil stick pit (bayonet training) would either be demolished or labeled rather unflatteringly. We understood a woman couldn’t carry a 70# ruck sack and march 20 miles before firing a perfect score on the rifle range……and we liked it, because we didn’t want them to do these things. The military is still struggling mightily with this issue, having great difficulty finding the “line” in their unisex world.

A masculine, chiseled man that was well spoken, had a sense of humor, who was groomed and clothed appropriately was in demand. It helped if he had a smidgin of ambition and kept his chariot clean. The subtle scent of Jade East or Canoe was the only chemical enhancement he trusted. By the same token, we preferred a well proportioned lady, dressed neatly in clothing that suited her build, with just a hint of the cologne of the day. We liked just the right amount of make-up or none at all, hands that were clean and soft and an appreciation for just a touch of chivalry. It helped a lot if they were self confident and conversational. Athleticism was always a plus. A neat ponytail, snug jeans and smooth un-altered skin is far more stimulating than a Mohawk and hog ring through the nose or tongue. In the day, jewelry was worn on or about not through and in (pierced ears being the exception). Goth was exceedingly rare and we acknowledged that intellectual superiority existed in both sexes.

Speaking for my generation, I can assure you that a lady dressed to accentuate her assets, who is clean, neat and well spoken will stir my primal instincts a hell of a lot faster than a Gothic, unisex clothed, pierced and rainbow painted lady wearing a pair of combat boots who believes razors are unnecessary. Those were wonderful days and I was blessed to grow up in the environment existing a half century ago. The scent of a woman is still intoxicating…..even though I am old. Thank you to all of my lady friends who are still feminine and, most importantly, want to stay that way until the end. At my age, the smile is not lascivious, rather appreciative. God made us different for a reason, please………no more blurred lines.

Have a good weekend!

SR

Some 35 years ago, this time of the year found me climbing into the cab of a John Deere 8650 tractor, like the one pictured, if I wasn’t behind the windshield of a Patrol Car. It was a behemoth, capable of pulling big implements with the reassuring drum of a turbo diesel that hardly broke a sweat. Piloting one of these machines involved a pre-flight not unlike piloting an airplane. There were a dozen or so lube points that needed refreshing and a walk around was always in order to check for stuff that wasn’t where it was supposed to be, bent or otherwise not pleasing to the eye. The filter in the cab A/C needed to be cleaned and the glass touched up for another day in the dust that a huge field cultivator was going to soon raise. You accomplished this check list while the big tanks were taking on another load of diesel fuel. It was a second identity for a guy who traced his roots to a “Poppin” Johnny on a 40 acre tobacco spread in rural South Carolina. Both events were on “family” farms, soon to be relegated to the status of dinosaurs, replaced by mega farms owned by mega companies, many of which are Chinese in origin. It was hard work and I loved every minute of it.

Yesterday, I climbed on a 22HP lawn tractor and mowed the lawn for the first time this year. The Cub Cadet started on the first key turn and for just a second, I was reminded of the honesty and effort it takes to groom Mother Earth. My “spread” today is a corner yard and our produce begins life in colorful 5 gallon buckets strategically placed around the perimeter of the back yard. Neighbors on all sides are dedicated to lawn maintenance, evidenced in the curb appeal of their residences. Our livestock is in the form of humming birds, robins and doves who stop for a little chow as they nest and do bird things in the spring. My implements include a string trimmer, hedge trimmers and leaf blower with a pair of lopping shears to guarantee the symmetry of our relatively young trees. I love yard work and prefer a walk behind mower, however arthritic feet don’t share my enthusiasm for the effort to manicure a lawn behind a push mower. Today, the big tractors can lay a line on a multi-acre field with the precision reflecting the magic of the GPS guidance found in the cab. The straight lines you see on today’s farms are the result of technology or an inordinately skilled tractor driver who takes pride in his work. Our yard reflects this same commitment to precision. The big John Deere and little Cub, each in their own way, provide a link to the ground we depend on. There is immense pleasure in shaping the earth from the seat of a 300HP tractor……or shaping a lawn from a little Cub Cadet.

In the end, it is the earth, tools, machinery and a willing human being that sustains our brief life cycle on earth. It doesn’t stop there. Most of us are destined to spend eternity shrouded in ground set aside for that purpose. My plans include a National Cemetery where a tractor of some sort will keep the ground immaculate, reflecting the orderly lifestyle of each of the folks interred there, if only for a few years in their past. It is spring and nature is a multi-sensory experience. Sit on the porch or your deck and listen, take a deep breath and note the scents of spring. If you are truly blessed, and live in the country, listen for the new calf talking to his mother or working equipment. Smile as you contemplate starting a tractor or mower and working the ground, whether it be a hay field, bean field or your lawn. While you are at it, say a prayer for those whose existence is on the cold concrete of a city, where nature is a green way they drive by at 60 MPH. They may never know……

Two tractors. With just a little imagination, the distance between them isn’t all that far! Grab a little nature today……

Have a good week!

SR

Other than a few short gigs that actually earned a check, I hung up my gun, pen and necktie over 15 years ago. It has been quite an experience since, with a very flexible bucket list and the time to check items off this list. Many of my contemporaries that were starting when I was checking out are reaching this magic phase of life. You see, retirement removes your job as an excuse to not do things for yourself and family that you should have been doing when you were employed. What did my vocation as a trained observer teach me about retirement? Several things, actually. Here we go…..

First, keep your feet on the ground. Altitude, even a few feet, becomes a deadly reality for folks as they age. Avoid ladders like the plague, admire rooflines from the street and treat stairs like hooded cobras. Next, regard that first cup of coffee with the reverence reserved for a rich uncle who is ailing and refers to you as his favorite nephew. Savor it’s warmth and aroma as you gently brew a cup or pot to start and perhaps end the day. Even the medicos are touting the benefits of this magic elixir these days. Grasp the concept of adaptability with gusto. In my case arthritis has affected virtually every activity that I enjoy. Our bodies, like a vintage automobile, require maintenance and nurturing. If you are in the “elder” classification, and nothing has happened, wait a bit. Something will happen, I can guarantee it.

Cultivate a passion. I have friends who wood carve, fly airplanes, fish, travel, research history or keep their yards to botanical garden standards. Perhaps wood working or turning wrenches is your passion. Maybe you are a voracious reader, play word games on computers or love being behind a camera. Some folks love the casino, a pastime that requires discipline lest it relieve you of all that you own, but is nonetheless fun for them. When asked what you like to do, have an answer. If you are involved in a multitude of activities, you are blessed. A special word of advice is in order here. Today folks seek a profit from about anything you can do legally. Be sure and work nature into your regimen, as life in the outdoors is still a bargain and the returns are endless. There is no Rx that can deliver the tranquility that a sturdy pair of shoes and a hiking trail can deliver. The sound of a paddle cutting a J stroke is priceless.

Be a kid again. When is the last time you sauntered out to the family chariot and deep cleaned the beast before hand waxing with the stuff that requires effort and is not sprayed on. Pretend, just for a moment, you are getting the car ready for prom night seeking perfection as you use little brushes and swabs to get dust out of crevices and voids. Get dirty planting a tree or shrubs. If you don’t need a nail brush regularly, you are missing out on the things that bring smiles to kids faces.

Donate weekends to those still pulling in the traces of employment. You have five days a week to do what you want to. Saturday and Sunday as personal days are where you were, not where you are.

Unless you are involved personally, leave the politics to those hapless souls who are trapped in the stupidity of our political system. What, you say? This from a fellow who constantly harangues the politicians who feed at the public trough? I have failed miserably in following this advice and paid a price for it. You see, politics and perhaps religion, both result in your making enemies you really don’t have to. This trait is particularly vexing in retired police officers whose careers involved constantly assessing what is right and wrong in human behavior. My heartfelt advice is to avoid this arena and save your passion for the voting booth, the only place you can make a difference unless your name is on a ballot. Being a politicoholic isn’t advisable, perhaps an intervention is in my future. Politics constitute the seed bed of hatred in folks who want to affect change beyond their vote…….

Don’t back down after retiring, buck up! These are golden years, but do not let the old man or old woman slip into your life. We live in the best place in the world to branch out, find a passion, and get moving. As Larry the Cable Guy would say, git’er done.

Have a great week!

SR

We have finally tamed the inertia that propels one while on the road seeing the America that most simply drive by. The incredible inflationary cycle that we are living through, replete with fuel costs that were unimaginable just a year ago, have added extra meaning to the enthusiasm we felt on our swing through the fabled towns of the old south last month. Soon such trips will be cost prohibitive. Along the way, we stopped for a day at America’s preservation of man’s inhumanity to man, the Prisoner of War Museum and site of the infamous Andersonville prisoner of war camp in Andersonville, Ga. The visit left an indelible impression on my mind.

As a reminder, this place was chosen by the Confederate Army as the location to stockade Union prisoners during the Civil War. It was in existence for about 14 months before the advancing Union Army forced the living prisoners to be relocated to prisons in South Carolina and other locations. It was a scene from the gates of hell and you could, if you cleared your mind and concentrated, feel the despair, misery and death that still lingers in the Georgia breeze that blows through this piece of ground. From February 1864 through the end of 1865 some 30,000 Union prisoners were held here with more than 13,000 dying from various diseases and at each other’s hand. The prison, then known as Camp Sumpter, was located on 16 acres with a creek running through the middle of it that served as the source of drinking water and as a latrine for the prisoners. There were no barracks and the men existed under makeshift shanties to provide shelter. As in many growing communities, crime was rampant and gangs soon formed. One gang, the “Raiders” would roam about stealing and beating inmates, much as gangs do today. Another group soon formed, the “Regulators” who demanded relief from the criminal gangs. The prison Commandant authorized a trial with prisoners serving as judges, defense attorneys and prosecutors and the ringleaders of the Raiders were tried, sentenced to death and hung on the prison grounds by their fellow prisoners. They are buried separately in the prison cemetery, denied fellowship with the souls of those they terrorized.

There was soon to be another hanging. The prison commandant, one Cpt. Henry Wirz, was one of a few military officers hung after the Civil War. Historians today question the propriety of hanging the Captain, as he made every effort to secure rations and better living conditions for his prisoners, all futile as prisoners of war are accorded little consideration throughout history. He is thought to be a scapegoat for the political entities who needed to assuage the sensitivities of those who were familiar with the horror in this camp. When read the charges against him at his hanging, the Major responsible for carrying out the execution told Wirz he was only following orders, to which Wirz replied, “I know about orders, Major, I am being hung for obeying them”.

After the war and as a result of meticulous records kept by a prisoner/clerk named Dorence Atwater, the names of the inmates who died were used to identify and place the exhumed remains in proper graves, literally shoulder to shoulder, in what is now a National Cemetery adjacent to the prison site. Clara Barton, “The Angel of the Battlefield” was the driving and organizing force behind this task. It is a beautiful place, as all National Cemeteries are, with statuary from every state whose soldiers are buried here.

I’ll close this piece by reminding readers that it takes tremendous resolve and strength to survive being a prisoner of war, no matter which war the circumstance occurs in. The museum on this site takes the visitor through all of America’s wars and the treatment prisoners received. Often, a bullet to the head was far more merciful than captivity in a POW camp, and survival is a testament to those who were held, to their mental strength, resourcefulness and relationship with their God. America was conceived and shaped by blood, honor and triumph over the greatest adversities imaginable. We have earned the right to be a great Democracy, and we should never remove reminders such as this one, of our bloody and violent past.

Andersonville left a mark on my psyche. God bless the souls of those that perished.

Have a great week.

SR

We are back in Missouri just in time for a winter storm with all kinds of guarantees relative to ice, sleet and snow. A tactical error? Yes, if weather alone drives your RV interest, no if your motivations lean more to seeing and experiencing the country with little concern for time. Our very first extended trip, nearly two months, has further increased our knowledge base about the RV phenomenon. As my old Sergeant used to say, “bought’n learning is the best learning”. Here is my take.

First, the obvious. It will be expensive to travel about in or pulling a RV today. Fuel costs are through the overhead with food costs close behind. Be ready for routine 40 buck meals for two, if you are careful, and much higher if you seek a “dining experience”. Restaurant costs, on the road, are shocking, period. Weather permitting, the little Webber grills are your best friend when you settle in for a stay while on the road. Diesel costs average close to $4.00 with the better prices at stations you cannot get your RV in. Be ready to trade the inconvenience of shorter fueling intervals for the convenience of locations you can easily get in and out of.

We comprised a list of things that folks need to be aware of. In no particular order, these are the things that range from merely vexing to full on infuriating. Water spigots at ground level make hose attachment an adventure. WiFi is an absolute bait and switch proposition at most parks, not enough band width. Parking sites that are simply not level, some a lot, are aggravating. RVing is highly weather dependent. Cancellation fees have become obnoxious and site guarantees are expensive. You forfeit your pre-paid fees these days with some parks allowing a credit for a return trip, and all your hard work selecting a site within a park is for naught as most parks reserve the right to move you to another site at their discretion unless you pay a “lock in” fee on top of the site rental. Be ready, site fees clearly mirror the inflationary cycle we are in. It is wise to avoid older parks that allow “full timers”, as many of these units become cluttered and unkempt. Larger parks will fill your propane tanks for you with a healthy up charge for the convenience, but be careful here, as many of the employees handling this duty are not trained and will overfill your tank. While we do not desire a Nazi experience (we have stayed in such parks and it is not fun) many parks do not enforce their own rules. Dogs run loose, elaborate dog pens are constructed at various sites, dogs are left out to raise hell and a picnic table is a luxury item requiring extra fees. You will soon learn to despise folks who cannot bend at the waist and pick up after their dogs. Laundry facilities range from very nice credit card machines to a couple of nasty and expensive older machines that are in short supply. Off site laundry facilities can be hard to find and the clean, modern ones are very rare.

Roads. Soon we will be traveling on wagon trails. The road systems in and around most metropolitan areas are horrendous, especially when pulling a big trailer. If your preferences run much above 60-65 MPH when towing, after a season or two you will need duct-tape by the case. Try to avoid metro areas where the population is much above 20,000 as their roads will be highly suspect. We keep a very specific road diary and will likely never again travel some of the roads we have seen. No state has the market cornered on overall road quality and every state has some great roads…….big cities are the most devastating. It is amazing that folks will oppose a fuel tax for road maintenance yet gladly pay the costs associating with the destruction of their vehicles on roads with holes in them you can fish out of.

The RV industry has been on a boom cycle for the past two years and there are more of them out there than ever before. Make your reservations early and put your deposits at risk if you cancel. There are a number of really great parks out there, but many are accepting reservations for 2023! Missouri’s best parks are pretty well blacked out on all weekends this year and many are already fully booked, period. It will not take many experiences stopping in a substandard locations to make you wish you had planned ahead. Size matters when fueling and in parks when setting up. God bless the folks who left plenty of maneuvering room in their parks for longer rigs and fuel stops with expansive space to get to a pump. (A shout out to Buc-ee’s, the ultimate RV stops while on the road….soon coming to Springfield.) My totally unscientific analysis of the length issue can be summed up by suggesting that for every foot of RV length you add over 30’, you trade a year of your life as a result of maneuvering the unit! Our trailer is 38’ long……..you do the math.

Would we do it again? Absolutely. You meet neat people, see incredible things and sharpen your ability to focus when on the road. It is heaven for Tazzy who has become very comfortable in his “Dog House”. The idea of having your mobile condo with you can be enchanting…..but only if you are trained and experienced. My final thought is simple. Do not take this pastime for granted…..learn from those who have been there, and be extra careful. It can be a mine field to the uninitiated.

Have a great week!

SR

We are asking a lot when we trust Joe Biden to find the answers to our surging violent crime problem in America. He is a one song virtuoso, chanting gun control and gun violence in his daily missive to the people. Joe, there are 400 million guns in civilian hands in America, more guns than people, the vast majority of which are in the hands of lawful gun owners and not the folks leading the unprecedented rise in homicide and other violent crime. There were 4,000 more people murdered in 2020 than in 2019, and these murders were not committed by members of the NRA and other lawful, peaceful Americans. Crime is a by-product of people. Look to what drives the trends, not the tools used in the trend.

Violent crime in the last three years is up by 30%. Guns? No, according to Amy Swearer, a fellow at the Heritage Foundation who is a critical thinker on the business of crime. She attributes the incredible increase in violent crime to the pandemic and resultant lockdowns as much as anything. She is right, of course, it is people under pressure that break, not the cold steel in a gun. We have elected a slate of woke bureaucrats, particularly in our big cities, who in the name of doing something have veered off the tracks and are exacerbating the problem by taking a counter intuitive approach to this issue. They are softening rather than hardening our response to criminality. You do not change the behavior of a chicken eating dog by feeding him more chicken. You also do not mitigate the incredible increase in violent crime by turning criminals back to the streets with little or no accountability. We have a problem, there is no doubt, but guns in lawful hands are not the problem.

Folks who champion the defund the police movement are clueless puffs of wasted air. When you cut police funding, programs such as gang violence, intervention and other community services are the first to go. In my hometown, a conservative but evolving community, the police are committed to a call for some type of service well in excess of 90% of their time on duty. They are significantly under staffed and forced to ignore issues related to community education and outreach. There simply is not time for the prevention side of the crime issue as opposed to the investigation side of a crime that has already occurred. The agenda of the far left, who are championing the ignorance of reduced police presence and holding legal gun owners responsible for existing crime, is mystifying.

What are we to do about the sharpest increase in violent crime in this nation’s history? I wish that I knew. I can suggest to Biden and his collection of dopplegangers that his current strategy is not only worthless but counter productive. Any emergency services responder knows the first order of business is to stabilize the scene and prevent further harm. Knee jerking does exactly the opposite, and the left is showing championship form in the science of knee jerking. I can say with absolute certainty that taking a gun away from a law abiding citizen who is committed to self preservation in the face of a monumental crime wave is not part of the solution. Leave that alone Biden, as that ship has sailed..

Two days ago, I was looking around Savannah for a manual car wash to clean up Cirrus the Ram. Instead I found a street wise couple of enterprising black guys on a corner with a broken down van, a trailer, a power washer and generator. I hired them to wash Cirrus. They noticed my thin blue line wrist band and, naturally, a conversation ensued. The boss was a tough guy, a product of the streets and system. He told me the money was good on pretty days, the work was hard and the overhead steep with the supply of chemicals and materials in this business. He was proud of his “honest” money and that a change was necessary lest he suffer the consequences of a questionable alternative to working. He get’s it. When what you are doing isn’t working, change it up and start in a new direction. Logical. If only Biden could grasp this basic reasoning.

What we are doing in America to change the trajectory of crime isn’t working, hasn’t worked in the past and will solve nothing in the future. Guns are an easy target for some politicians and their clans. Give it a rest guys and recognize we are dealing with unprecedented pressures brought about by the gross mishandling of pandemic generated social issues. It is obvious that Joe Biden does not get it. The guys on the corner, washing cars do…….

Have a great weekend!

SR

Police officers are required to quickly assess the character and intent of folks they come in contact with. Sometimes you bet your life on the quick judgement you have made, and sometimes you are wrong. We are always looking for “tells”, subtle indications of the character, education and intent of the folks we deal with. Like a bolt from the blue, I have discovered a foolproof way to form an opinion of folks you have just met. Give them a RV of any description and watch them attach the sewer line. You’ll know pretty quickly who you are dealing with. Here is my insight.

The biggest issue with the installation of hoses is sanitation. When folks lurch into a RV site, bail out and light a fire in the grill, then grab the sewer hose from the carrier, still leaking from the last stop, hook it up and sit back with a cool beverage and burger flipper in hand…..all without gloves or any effort to wash their hands, do not join them for lunch. These folks have ancestors who started the typhoid epidemics of old. Nitrile gloves are sold at a number of retailers for pennies a pair. Careful sanitation engineers use gloves and carry around a spray bottle of stuff that will kill anything from the meanest virus to the Red Army. It is also worth noting that gloving up, handling the sanitation chores and then handling your fresh water lines with the same gloves on doesn’t work either. Here comes the typhoid again…..

Next up are folks who have no concept of the laws of physics. It (and that includes poo) will not run uphill. These are the folks who will attach the hose to the unit, then to the drop in the ground with no concern whatsoever about what the hose is doing in between. They expect the contents of the hose to miraculously find it’s way between the two points with any and all manner of high points in their layout. They end up “running” the hose, picking it up and draining the contents into the drop. There are any number of inexpensive devices out there that insure a steady drop between your unit and the ground drop. Watch these folks carefully, especially with vehicles on grades, as they just don’t get it.

Infrastructure. As mentioned above, there exists all manor of little slinky looking devices, adjustable trays, even slides to place your hose in to insure that gravity does it’s job. You are dealing with an inveterate tinkerer when he hauls out 100 pounds of wooden blocks and pieces of PVC to route his hose to the drop. He wants folks to know he is practical and clever. I see tight. He will also have the sorriest hoses, that have seen years of service with electrical tape wrapped around the holes and tears. As a side note, he is usually careless with the gloves. These hoses carry not only waste, but some of the harshest chemicals outside of the Redstone Arsenal, where biological warfare stuff is stored. These chemicals are dropped into holding tanks by folks who are sanitation savvy to stop odors and protect the environment. 😂 Another enemy of hoses is heat and cold, with honorable mention to UV rays, all considerations that hasten hose breakdown. If you are next to one of these guys, don’t look for them to buy lunch. If they skimp on sanitation and rely on homemade sewer systems……they are not generous, nor do you want to touch stuff they have touched!

As a final note, always be generous with your time and knowledge with new campers who just don’t know. They are easy to spot. In Texas, two Army nurses pulled into the spot next to ours. They were twins and absolutely cute as they could be. They were also new to the pastime and were struggling with electrical and sewer connections. Bless their little hearts. I took the time from my busy schedule to help them get connected, even “loaning” them an adaptor from 50 to 30 amp service so they would be able to run their air conditioner. Their sewer connection was anything but serviceable and I explained how to route their line so that it would work properly. I viewed the experience as an old Captain helping two young Captains enjoy their new lifestyle. What could go wrong? Sharon was not as inclined to help them to the same extent…believing that experience would be a better teacher for them.

Another of life’s lessons……..

Have a great weekend!

SR

In a continuing effort to keep my readers in the loop attendant to the fun and excitement of hitting the road in a RV, and totally out of character with the Biden rule of shading, lying and deceiving folks about expenditures, I am taking a few minutes to update folks about money and the RV. Depending on your approach, it can be great sport for the frugal or lavish spender. As a disclaimer, we are not the “boon-docker” type who is content to beach the trailer in a Cabela’s parking lot, fire up the generator and commune with shoppers who view you with just a smidgen of disdain. We like amenities, utility hookups and plenty of water, and WiFi.

I could stop at this point by simply pointing out that current inflationary trends are alive and well in the pursuit of the nomadic lifestyle this pastime offers. RVs of any description are mini-homes on wheels and stuff bends, breaks and needs attention as you travel about. On most trips, we are compelled to stop at a hardware store for a screw, nut and bolt or propane to keep from freezing to death in the winter confines of Northern Florida, which apparently did not get the memo suggesting kind treatment for snowbirds from the midwest. Unless you are the folks who stuff their unit full of everything you need, thus overloading your condo on wheels, you are gonna pay inflated prices for everything from park rental to propane while you travel. In St. Augustine, the variance in cost for a 30# propane fill up is 10.00 or 35%. A 30# tank should cost about 25.00. You will also note that everywhere you go, convenience comes at a price. Imprudent shoppers are the perfect foil for merchants who seek to maximize pricing to the unsuspecting.

Prices are up dramatically from 6 years ago when we started traveling with a trailer. We could routinely find spots for under 50.00 a night, with most being in the 30.00 range. Today you can expect to pay from 60.00 to 100.00 for those same lots. Equity companies are snapping up RV parks, making improvements and demanding a handsome return on their investment. Unless you are fortunate enough to score state parks or other government owned spots, you are going to spend near hotel level money on a spot to throw out the levelers. There has been a tremendous boon in RV sales the past two years, and reservations are required well ahead of planned trips. Not so 5 years ago, when vacancies were numerous. Our favorite park in Missouri, Echo Bluff, requires reservations well ahead of trips, with next year’s bookings being made as we speak. Plan carefully.

Food. Eating out is expensive. An occasional meal is easily absorbed, but if you hit a local eatery every day, or twice a day, hang on. It is absolutely routine for two folks to lay 40-50 Washingtons on the table for a nice lunch. The dinner hour will require another 20 or so, 50 if you want a glass of wine. It is crazy, with most joints unable to staff adequately, and house specialties priced at the high end of any reasonable scale. Grocery stores are running out of food with many shelves bare and the same pricing issues you see at home.

Fuel. I don’t need to comment here. Fuel costs are roughly double what we are used to and when you range far and wide, hang on. We have gone from energy independence to a healthy dependence on foreign oil. Our big diesel requires a steady diet……….

Okay, so am I complaining? No, just pointing out the obvious. In exchange for the lack of economy in this lifestyle, we get our own bed where Tazzy is welcome. We meet new people and see a country that is breath taking, with time to soak in the local culture. Our unit is big enough to keep extra clothes on hand, cook meals both inside and out and have most of the stuff you need with you. Planning keeps your mind occupied and vehicle maintenance and operation keeps you busy. We have not missed a playoff game and have yet to be cold or hot in our condo on wheels. We love day trip exploring and this lifestyle opens up any number of possibilities.

We love this pastime. I would suggest it to anyone with nominal mechanical and/or culinary aptitude. It allows you to get into a community, see what’s off main street and enjoy the local restaurant scene (carefully). Shopping is Sharon’s particular area of expertise and the ability to really work a retail environment brings a smile to her face. We continue to meet very interesting people, (the gentleman in the lot next to us was a river rat in Vietnam, the same guys that Kerry lied about, he was able to set the record straight!) I just think it fair to note this lifestyle has a price tag…….and a fiscal conservative (tight) may not like it. Caveat Emptor……always!

Have a great weekend!

SR

As he has thousands of times the grim reaper has struck again, this time stealing into town quietly and leaving with another human being to add to his collection of Covid victims. We must remember that every victim is a friend or family member of someone, however; the transactions between the reaper and victim are sometimes barely noticed. Such was the case this week when Mike Mulholland, a friend, associate and confident died quietly at Mercy Hospital. What about this retired Highway Patrolman the kids in Odessa years ago referred to as “Mike with a moustache”? Let’s have a look.

Mike was from the Moberly, Missouri area where he earned a Business degree from Northeast Missouri State College. He was whip smart and graduated near the top of his class, a feat he would repeat at the Highway Patrol Academy a few years later. He was an excellent athlete, not the thin kind that you see mostly see today, rather a fireplug of a guy who would fool you with cat like reflex and determination. As would be his custom through the years he let his skill do the talking, with not a hint of self promotion in his repertoire. Mike walked the walk.

I came to know him in January of 1972 after graduating in the Patrol class following him. As luck would have it, we both were assigned to Odessa in Lafayette county where we became the responsibility, back to back, of a crusty Dutchman as our training officer. Lafayette County was an ideal place to be a trooper, where officers from every department worked together and our exposure to policing was comprehensive. Mike and I loved to work together, a practice soon discontinued by our Sergeant, as we somehow found ourselves into mischief every time we suited up on the same shift. Mike was marked for early advancement on the Patrol and soon was transferred to Jackson County where he stayed busy in and around the Kansas City area in a supervisory role. Mike rose to the rank of Lieutenant as quietly as he entered the department in the early 70’s. There are many stories about our time together, but they can be summed up with high praise for Mike. Mike Mulholland had your back, period. Secondly, he sought no praise or exposure to bright lights or fame. He went about his job carefully, reflectively, and with a work ethic that few could emulate. Mike was a bulldozer in a diplomat’s hat. He was one of the finest to ever wear the uniform, worn with pride and always representing the Patrol in a positive light. Paul Michael Mulholland, the devout Catholic from north Missouri, was an absolutely reliable officer of the law with excellent judgement and the ability to relate to virtually every living being on earth. He was, in short, one hell of a Highway Patrolman.

Mike left this world quietly. Covid is like that, they say. His beloved wife Judy is gravely ill with Covid and is on a ventilator at the same Springfield hospital where Mike was introduced to the Master. Judy’s future is very uncertain, but while they could they travelled extensively, enjoyed fine wine and laughed often on their backyard patio where’re Mike held forth on one of his several outdoor grills and stoves. We were privileged to enjoy his deck artistry with a smoker, laughing and remembering things probably best left un-remembered. His unexpected early departure from this world has left a vacancy for another American that loves his country as much as his family, will always complete a job and would never leave a fellow officer or friend hanging. He left this world as he lived life………under the radar but always there.

Mike was as solid as the granite that will mark his eternal resting place. Few are remembered as well……..

We’ll miss you Mike…….thank you

We all can see it. We are driving like hell is in the seat next to us and we are paying a price for it. I made a good living regulating the flow of traffic on our roads and highways and it pains me greatly to see what is happening out there today when folks take the wheel. Let’s end the old year, a tumultuous one at best, with a reminder that sloppiness behind the wheel exacts a measurable toll. To be more precise, it is killing around 100 people a day in the most progressive country on the face of the earth. What is happening?

In 1899, the first year statistics were reliability recorded, America lost a total of 26 people on our rough roads behind the wheels of unsophisticated iron, propelled by low horsepower engines. Contrast that with 1970, where we suffered through the deaths of 52,627 presumably good people. Engineering kicked in, enforcement tightened, and road money flowed like an Artesian well. Fatality rates continued to climb steadily. Despite more cars on the road, cheap gasoline and a wanderlust that is second nature to Americans, the fatality rates then began to drop annually from 1980 until 2020 when they started to rise again. In 2021, the first half of the year saw a 38% increase in deaths over the first 6 months of 2020, with 20,160 folks finding a porcelain slab table in a funeral home. Again, what in the hell has happened?

First, Covid. The movement of 5,000 pounds of steel on a hard surface DEMANDS regulation and education. When there is little likelihood that your outrageous driving behavior will result in a meeting with a traffic cop, you tend to push the envelope. A perfect storm exists when officers have little time to work traffic because of other duties and a dearth of said officers exists. Sticking your head in the widow of a violator’s car who might be a Covid carrier is not popular these days, never mind hauling the bad guys in the front seat of your cruiser while he coughs and gasps his way to jail. Next up, speed. Speed is still the primary driver of mechanized death, a simple matter of mass in motion, or physics. You do not have to be a mathematician to understand that a car at 1 MPH into a steel post will not be as devastating as that same car at 80 into the same post. I was in the business for 27 years and have never seen the flow of traffic as fast as it is today. Period. I also cannot remember the lack of common courtesy rising to the level seen today, added to the distractions provided by cell phones, food and total inattention, the second big contributor to accidents. You want to drop the fatality rate by 50%? Just drop one of the electronic devices into every car that records your driving behavior, forward an annual report to your insurer and base rates on your driving habits. I can guarantee results when you tamper with an errant driver’s wallet.

A final observation. The political climate in our country has given rise to an unprecedented level of anti-authoritarian behavior. As an example, the government is NOT telling me when or if I am going to take a vaccine. (I did take it) We don’t like the notion of anyone tampering with our “freedoms” what ever they may be. Traffic enforcement, effectively done, makes arrangements for the violator to discuss his preferences in regard to “big brother” with a judge, not at car side. Traffic enforcement is definitive in nature and has a tendency to temper foolish behavior and attitudes. Without it, we are simply narcissistic folks wandering about with little fear our behavior, when it strays, will be met with the contrary opinion of an officer.

Too many times, I have fished through the pockets of a dead person looking for some form of identification, with the vast majority of the circumstances revolving around a monumental mistake made behind the wheel. Children lying on a porcelain table will bring a tear to the eye of the most hardened officer. I drive today flabbergasted with the casual behavior of our unregulated generation of drivers. It is high time we re-emphasis the regulation of traffic. When will the price for ignoring this important consideration be too high? Hopefully soon…….

If you are not part of the solution, then you well my be a part of the problem. Resolve to be better behind the wheel this year. At some point you will be glad you did. I can guarantee it.

Happy New Year!

SR