Chapter 9 · America the Beautiful

Grandma’s Camper Secret

A pre-dawn heist to fix the one thing that had been bothering her all along

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This was our last evening in Huntington before packing up and setting off toward the family reunion in Beckley, West Virginia. The next morning would be an early start, having to pack up the campsite and empty the waste tank. It wasn’t a long drive to the next campsite in Beckley, but we had a couple of sightseeing stops along the way, specifically the New River Gorge Bridge.

This bridge is the longest span of steel in the Western Hemisphere and the third-highest bridge in the United States, according to the National Park Service, and is one of the most photographed places in West Virginia. It was even featured on a state quarter in 2006 by the U.S. Mint. There is a scenic overlook with a boardwalk and visitor center offering views of the New River Gorge Bridge in all its glory.

It was nearly evening when we finally made it to our campsite in Beckley. Many of the menfolk on my Paw Paw’s side of the family rushed over to greet us before we had even pulled our camper into its lot. With old-school chivalry, they ushered us to our spot, all closely following behind to park the camper for Grandma. This was rather entertaining, seeing as Grandma was an expert and knew how to park this camper like a boss, but she calmly and patiently stepped aside and let the gentlemen park her camper for her since it had been such a long day and drive. I can’t blame her. The only problem was they found the only hill in the otherwise flat lot to park on, and every one of Grandma’s stabilizing blocks had to be used.

She was hiding her frustration well, kindly smiling and graciously thanking them for parking the camper for us, and even sitting back while they took over most of our setup tasks, including hooking up the water and electricity, rolling out our canopy, hanging our lights, and even setting up our furniture. All the while, Grandma was building their confidence until their chests poked out with her grand smile and exaggerated gratitude.

The next morning, she woke up before dawn to go to the bathhouse to use the restroom and see who might be up. Grandma had a plan that had probably originated the day before while watching our camper get set up. Not wasting any time, she hurried back from the bathhouse and woke me up.

“Come on, Heather. I need you to get up,” she whispered. “We’re going to move the camper before anyone wakes up.”

Slowly coming to my senses and wiping the sleep from my eyes, I asked her, “How are we going to do this, Grandma?”

She had already aligned the truck hitch with the camper. Next, she needed us to lower the canopy, unhook the water and electricity, remove all the wooden stabilizing blocks, and move the furniture out of the way. I was going to guide her as she quickly and stealthily pulled the camper forward and re-aligned it onto our site.

That one adjustment was literally all that was needed. While she waited in the truck, I ran inside to check that the camper was level. Like I said before, Grandma is an expert at parking a camper. She was spot on. Once we set everything back up, none of her stabilizing blocks were needed.

I can guarantee you she had been itching to do that ever since the men had parked the camper the day before.

By the time the sun was coming up, only a random early riser here and there ventured out to the bathhouse or to walk a dog. No one would ever know that our camper had been moved.

It was our secret, one that Grandma and I laughed about over our morning coffee.