It has been more than three months since the last log entry. Though nobody has been thoughtful enough to have actually asked, I am quite sure there are a large number of you who were completely preoccupied with the thought that perhaps the moronavirus had escorted the Captain to Davy Jones’ locker. Fear not! You can sleep easy again! I am still alive though I managed to acquire a considerable amount of unwanted ballast during the quarantine. I have also not had a haircut since February and hence possess a glorious overflowing mane of stunning silvery locks which sometimes fly into my eyes and clogs the shower drain. The Navigator is ok too in case you want to know.
The Navigator and I have been fortunate to avoid the doltovirus. We wear the Navigator’s happy little homemade masks and we practice social distancing (but not from each other though I believe the thought has often crossed the Navigator’s mind). We have slathered copious amounts of Purell and GermX with reckless abandon. Recently, after a somewhat animated disagreement, the Navigator lovingly offered to shove an entire large unopened bottle of sanitizer into a part of my anatomy not specifically designed for that purpose and that is neither beautiful nor suntanned. I have serious doubts it would have provided any significant disinfectant benefits for combating the pullitoutofthereovirus.
For those of you who may have missed it. The crapolavirus first sunk its prickly fangs into Florida’s aorta in January and accelerated its suckfest each passing month. The sucking became increasingly ferocious, sloppy, and unrelenting until a few weeks ago when it apparently sprung a vacuum leak and the number of new cases abated.
We in Florida are a hardy bunch. We are a beautiful, gregarious collection of suntanned people from all walks of life but we are not very good at counting things. To those who may have taken offense at my last comment, think back to the hanging chad election of some years ago. All we had to do was add up the votes and announce the winner but it took us several days and a Supreme Court decision to guesstimate who actually won. But somehow everybody still wants to move here and clog our already clogged roads.
At the outset of the plague some of those same brainy suntanned beautiful people applied their considerable mathematical and arithmetical skills to tallying the effects of the aforementioned suckolavirus. That is a good thing, however, because soon there emerged rumors of people who had perished from other causes but were coded as victims of the virus. For example, a beautiful suntanned person passed away immediately after being run over by a semi. At the conclusion of the accident investigation, the beautiful suntanned accident investigator attributed the death to an acute case of dogpoopovirus.
There were also reports of testing facilities double reporting infections and in some cases NOT reporting positive tests results. In Florida, it is not unusual since our doctors are frequently busy sunning themselves while wearing Speedos and the thought of reporting bad news kills the buzz from the delicious lime Margarita they sipped as they inserted the swab to the back of the suspected infectee’s skull. So, in the eyes of many numerically dazzled suntanned beautiful people, there was a bit of room from which to doubt the veracity of the published numbers.
Below is part of a chart published online a couple of days ago by our beautiful suntanned Florida Department of Health which shows the rate of new cases remaining somewhat steady with minor fluctuations attributed to day of the week, testing availability, and other factors. If you look carefully at August 1, you will find it had a huge spike compared to the three days before and three days after. The total number of new infections on August 1 was reported as 7,421. The previous day was 1,684 and the day after was 2,500. I am not a statistician nor do I play one on TV but even I can see this is an anomaly that needs explanation. I suspect some beautiful suntanned person inadvertently carried a few extra ones to the thousands column that day.
On Friday, our beautiful suntanned Florida governor announced he was lifting all the nitwitovirus restrictions. This action allowed all bars, clubs, restaurants, and Corvette shows to reopen immediately. I assume he made the announcement after carefully scrutinizing the numbers provided by our beautiful suntanned statisticians. I am almost certain somebody in that room had a calculator and confirmed all the digits were carried over appropriately and the sums were double checked before making the announcement.
The Navigator and I are not easily fooled, except on rare occasions when the Google Maps app on the Navigator’s iPhone inexplicably jumbles the cardinal points of the compass. We are leery of pronouncements from our beautiful suntanned representatives especially when numbers and possible arithmetical calculations are involved. So, though we celebrate our beautiful suntanned governor’s announcement we will continue to be vigilant and practice reasonable measures to keep ourselves and our fellow beautiful suntanned Floridians safe.
Like Superman and his Fortress of Solitude, I also retreated to my 4-bedroom 2-bath Fortress of Solitude located in sunny Kendale Lakes, Florida. My Fortress did not offer the same level of solitude as Superman’s because he did not have the Navigator rattling around inside his fortress.
The Navigator finally retired again in August which means my cherished solitude evaporated. We grudgingly adapted to the vicissitudes brought by the plague and eventually discovered YouTube University which is not an actual university but offers great information about pretty much anything you are interested in. The main difference from a real university is that YouTube actually teaches valuable things you want to learn. There is great information about cures for the damnitalltohellovirus and I believe this is where our beautiful suntanned statisticians learned to do their dazzling arithmetic.
Approximately two weeks ago we ran across a YouTube channel called “Traveling Robert” about a guy who bought a Recreational Vehicle (RV) and traveled all over the country. He created videos of his adventures and even set it to his own music which I found very cool. He lives in Miami therefore he is a bonafide beautiful suntanned Floridian. He also has a Spanish accent due to his coming from our common birthplace, Cuba, several years ago. The Navigator and I enjoyed his videos and spent many days watching them. Robert seems to have a peculiar affinity for pelicans but other than that he seems like a great guy and he likes Indian Pale Ales (IPA).
The Navigator and I have several friends who also own RVs and they seem very happy. Some own huge bus-like RVs called Class A. They are equipped like the entire contents of Buckingham Palace were carefully shoved into a huge Greyhound bus.
Others own smaller versions called Class B or campervans. These are equipped like the entire contents of the Palace of Versailles were tastefully crammed into a Honda Odyssey.
Some have Class C which is like a van that got everything chopped off from the cockpit back and a little box house containing the entire contents of the Royal Palace of Madrid was dropped in the space.
They are all very nice and have better amenities than any of the aforementioned royal palaces.
The Navigator and I camped a few times but always in tents when the knuckleheads were little. I think I enjoyed it more than the Navigator because she had galley duties with our Coleman 3 burner grill. Overall, we liked it but we did not do it often enough to justify dropping any heavy cash on an RV. I know our RV would likely spend most of its life sitting at the side of the house collecting spiders, iguanas, and other local fauna instead of roaming the highways and byways of our great country.
While watching YouTube University, we learned of the abundance of national parks, campgrounds, Walmarts, Cracker Barrels, and other RV resorts around the country. We also learned about boondocking which is taking an RV into the middle of nowhere with no running water, electricity, wifi, or cellphone service and waiting patiently to be murdered or molested by a bigfoot. We decided we would not be boondockers.
We eventually found something that might work. A popup camper. A popup camper is simply a tent on a utility trailer. They are very light and usually come with hookups for water, electricity, and a propane stove. The best ones come equipped with mankind’s greatest achievement, air conditioning.
After conducting exhaustive online research, we came to the realization that it was not a good time to invest in any RV. Apparently, we are currently in a strong seller’s market driven by people “going off the grid” and buying up anything that has wheels and a roof. The low inventory of availabe RVs has driven the price of a used popup camper close to that of a new one. All other classes, A, B, and C, are doing likewise. We briefly considered purchasing a really old RV at a very low price and refurbishing it but I am not keen on spending the rest of my life plugging leaks, replacing rotten floors, replacing and/or rebuilding engines, or hunting down the local fauna lurking behind the cabinets. We thought our dream had evaporated.
Last week, while deeply contemplating why spiders have 8 legs and ants only have 6, an epiphany hit me. We already have an RV. It is a 2003 Lincoln Town Car with a 4.6-liter V8 engine packing a sleep inducing 239 horsepower. It is built on the Panther platform which means the body is installed onto a real chassis which means it performs very well in collisions, kind of like a plush Sherman tank. The Panther platform was manufactured for 33 years and was used on cars like the Town Car, Mercury Marquis, and Ford Crown Victoria. It was very tough and reliable and it was most often found on cars used as taxi cabs or police cruisers because of their toughness. The Town Car is rear wheel drive and even has dual exhaust.
We lovingly call it Land Yacht because it is huge, roomy, and incredibly comfortable. It is my granddaughter Violette’s favorite vehicle because she can control the little lights over her door. It is a Barcalounger on wheels. Land Yacht has an air bag suspension so it literally rides on air. It also has cruise control so when you get a little sleepy you can engage the cruise and let go of the steering wheel. It goes all by itself. There is no need to concern yourself about collisions as long as you’re inside the car. It gets between 22 and 24 mpg on the highway which makes it a veritable econobox.
The Navigator can easily stretch out her stumpy 5-foot frame on the soft leather back seat and have plenty of room to wiggle her toes. The trunk is even bigger. I can sleep there in a pinch and there is plenty of room for a TV. The best part is you can pack a decently sized tent and all necessary camping accoutrements without needing to put anything in the back seat. The dream was back!
Before mentioning my epiphany to the Navigator, I carefully pondered her possible reactions when informed of her resumption of galley duties as part of my dream. I was mindful of the Navigator’s stated desire to forcefully administer a sealed bottle of disinfectant into a sensitive part of my body so I proceeded with an overabundance of diplomacy. To my delight, she liked the idea.
So now we are working on the logistics and timing as there are some personal family matters we need to address before we can hit the road. We expect to have them resolved by the end of next month, with any luck.
I had another brilliant epiphany yesterday. It involved setting a goal of playing my trumpet in each of the 48 contiguous states. As the idea blossomed, I thought it would be great fun to stick a GoPro camera on Land Yacht’s dash facing inside whenever the Navigator drove. That way I could serenade her with my trumpet from the back seat and capture her delight on camera. I have not told her yet about this latest epiphany. I will let it be a surprise.
If you have any suggestions or recommendations concerning RVs, camping gear, sanitizer application methods, or fascinating multi-legged creatures, please leave a comment.
So, there it is. I am still alive as I write this. The nosepickovirus has not gotten us yet and we are doing fine as I stare into the mirror and admire my luscious flowing silver locks. I will commit to posting online more frequently to keep you apprised on our Class L (for Land Yacht) RV camping adventures. Stay safe my friends!