Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 01 - Trouble at Happy Trails by Minnie Crockwell Page A
Authors: Minnie Crockwell
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wanted to marry, but John didn’t seem willing to give me another chance…at marriage. I pushed thoughts of my ex-husband aside for the moment. I still loved that man!
“Well, Carl and I have been going the distance for about six years now, but he wants out.”
Six years? Somehow, I thought they must have been married longer, given their ages. Again, what could I say to such an intimate revelation from a stranger?
“I’m so sorry!” My immediate impression was that she was better off without him. However, I had learned over the years that my first impressions were almost always wrong. There was some comfort in being old enough to know that about myself. Turning 40 had been eye opening.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She sniffed and visibly straightened her shoulders. “I’m so sorry you found me like this. Now, do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, I do. Minerva Crockwell.”
“Oh, yes, here you are. What a great old-fashioned name!”
I smiled. I’d heard that before. “I was named after my grandmother, but I go by Minnie.”
“Like the mouse,” the attendant smiled. When not grieving, she seemed to be a sweet woman.
“Like Minerva,” I said with a grin. “I had enough teasing about Minnie Mouse when I was a kid.”
“My name is Sally Richardson,” she said. “That was my husband, Carl. He does the maintenance around here.”
She busied herself with paperwork, and I handed over my payment card at her request.
“So, do you and your husband live here all year, or….” I let the words hang, hoping she would fill in the blanks.
“No. The park is only open from April through the end of October. Winters get cold up here, not like on the west side of Washington State.”
“I know the west side pretty well,” I said. “I sold my house there about three months ago and hit the road full time in my RV.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Are you working on the road? Or retired? You look too young to be retired.”
I scrunched my nose. I always hated this question. I had retired young. People wondered if I was independently wealthy. Not a chance!
“I am retired actually…from federal service. Early retirement doesn’t pay much, but I managed to put some money away over the years. Mostly by not traveling. So, now I’m making up for it.”
Which explained why I hated the question “Are you retired?” It was a common question asked of most people who live and travel full time in their RVs. I felt some inexplicable need to over share and explain how I could afford to drive an oversized expensive rig around the country at a fairly young age when most other people were still slogging away in 9-5 jobs and dreaming of the life I now had. Plus I didn’t want anyone to think that federal service paid so well that everyone could afford to retire early. Hardly the case.
Nope! Twenty plus years of savings, an early retirement, the sale of my small house with a modest profit, a good deal on an RV, and a little bit of help from Ben, my hunky ghost companion, was all I needed.
As if she read my mind, Sally asked “Are you traveling alone?”
“Yes,” I replied.
Oh, come now, Minerva! Why do you keep denying me? Muster the courage and simply tell the good woman that you are accompanied by the ghost of a fellow traveler, albeit a man of the eighteenth century.
I ignored the voice of my constant companion. I had picked Ben up within the first month of my travels in the RV. Or rather, he had picked me up. I had gone to the nearby coast of western Washington to practice driving and living in the RV while waiting for my house to sell. One of my stops had been to the Lewis and Clark Interpretative Center at Cape Disappointment State Park, the western terminus for the Corps of Discovery’s mission to explore and map the American West.
When I returned to my RV at the campground, Ben had somehow joined me. I could describe the fear, terror, anxiety, self-doubt, angst, annoyance, and concern
“Well, Carl and I have been going the distance for about six years now, but he wants out.”
Six years? Somehow, I thought they must have been married longer, given their ages. Again, what could I say to such an intimate revelation from a stranger?
“I’m so sorry!” My immediate impression was that she was better off without him. However, I had learned over the years that my first impressions were almost always wrong. There was some comfort in being old enough to know that about myself. Turning 40 had been eye opening.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She sniffed and visibly straightened her shoulders. “I’m so sorry you found me like this. Now, do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, I do. Minerva Crockwell.”
“Oh, yes, here you are. What a great old-fashioned name!”
I smiled. I’d heard that before. “I was named after my grandmother, but I go by Minnie.”
“Like the mouse,” the attendant smiled. When not grieving, she seemed to be a sweet woman.
“Like Minerva,” I said with a grin. “I had enough teasing about Minnie Mouse when I was a kid.”
“My name is Sally Richardson,” she said. “That was my husband, Carl. He does the maintenance around here.”
She busied herself with paperwork, and I handed over my payment card at her request.
“So, do you and your husband live here all year, or….” I let the words hang, hoping she would fill in the blanks.
“No. The park is only open from April through the end of October. Winters get cold up here, not like on the west side of Washington State.”
“I know the west side pretty well,” I said. “I sold my house there about three months ago and hit the road full time in my RV.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Are you working on the road? Or retired? You look too young to be retired.”
I scrunched my nose. I always hated this question. I had retired young. People wondered if I was independently wealthy. Not a chance!
“I am retired actually…from federal service. Early retirement doesn’t pay much, but I managed to put some money away over the years. Mostly by not traveling. So, now I’m making up for it.”
Which explained why I hated the question “Are you retired?” It was a common question asked of most people who live and travel full time in their RVs. I felt some inexplicable need to over share and explain how I could afford to drive an oversized expensive rig around the country at a fairly young age when most other people were still slogging away in 9-5 jobs and dreaming of the life I now had. Plus I didn’t want anyone to think that federal service paid so well that everyone could afford to retire early. Hardly the case.
Nope! Twenty plus years of savings, an early retirement, the sale of my small house with a modest profit, a good deal on an RV, and a little bit of help from Ben, my hunky ghost companion, was all I needed.
As if she read my mind, Sally asked “Are you traveling alone?”
“Yes,” I replied.
Oh, come now, Minerva! Why do you keep denying me? Muster the courage and simply tell the good woman that you are accompanied by the ghost of a fellow traveler, albeit a man of the eighteenth century.
I ignored the voice of my constant companion. I had picked Ben up within the first month of my travels in the RV. Or rather, he had picked me up. I had gone to the nearby coast of western Washington to practice driving and living in the RV while waiting for my house to sell. One of my stops had been to the Lewis and Clark Interpretative Center at Cape Disappointment State Park, the western terminus for the Corps of Discovery’s mission to explore and map the American West.
When I returned to my RV at the campground, Ben had somehow joined me. I could describe the fear, terror, anxiety, self-doubt, angst, annoyance, and concern
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