Idle Thoughts From Mt. Waas
Towing the fifth-wheel...
by Ollie Harris
Sep 06, 2012 | 657 views | 0 0 comments | 5 5 recommendations | email to a friend | print
You hear people say that we ought to get out of our comfort zones once in a while. I wouldn’t have any argument about that except that getting out of my comfort zone means moving into a zone of discomfort.

Part of me asks a great big, “Why?” But, I know a couple of answers as to why I ought to get out of my comfort zone, or at least expand it a little.

My comfort zone is seriously stretched when I hook the big Dodge onto the fifth-wheel trailer and head down the highway, which I will be doing about three hours from now. The answer to my question of why I would do it is because Barbara wants me to. If Barbara wants me to, it is reason enough for me to suffer some discomfort.

The big Dodge loves to pull. It merrily hums down the highway. But I am filled with uneasiness. The trailer is bigger than I would like. It is 300 miles to our destination in Arizona. From there, we will pull up into the mountains and set up camp for a few days with two of our daughters and their families. We will have great-grandchildren in camp. Barbara loves the trailer. It is elegant. It is roomy. It is comfortable. And did I say that there will be great-grandchildren in camp?

Barbara has always loved to go camping. We have progressed from sleeping in the car, to sleeping on the ground under a tarp, to sleeping in one cheap tent or another, to sleeping in a camper shell, to sleeping in Cabela’s finest dome tent. Finally, there came a day when I said, “No more camping Gammy in the dirt,” and bought a small fifth-wheel trailer. I got tired of fixing that first trailer and bought the one we now have.

Friends of ours have a fifth-wheel trailer about the same size as ours. They hooked onto it with their Dodge pickup and towed it to New York to stay for six months. They will be back sometime this fall. Our son couldn’t find a good job so he hired himself and his Dodge pickup to deliver camp trailers all over the country. He delivered one to Alaska and several into Canada. My cousin has a fifth-wheel trailer about the same size as ours. He lives next door to our Arizona children where we are going in a few hours. He doesn’t seem to mind hooking onto his trailer with his Dodge and pulling it back and forth from his place to ours.

A couple of weeks ago, we towed our trailer to the Boulder Mountains in south-central Utah and stayed for a few days in the Singletree campground. I didn’t experience the slightest problem with towing. I have a friend who used to pull his fifth-wheel trailer to Mexico every year. We bought this trailer in Flagstaff and had no difficulty towing it home.

I mention all of these people who tow trailers much greater distances than I am looking at just to bolster my own confidence. It is a sort of pep rally. “Go, Ollie, go!”

I was informed that I am to cook Dutch-oven potatoes for dinner Friday evening in camp. I can handle that. No problem. But, I hope there isn’t a nagging little voice in the back of my mind reminding me that I still have to tow the trailer back home before I can relax.

After we return from Arizona, we have one more camping trip scheduled. But it is on our nearby mountain. It is a short distance. It is well within my comfort zone.

Don’t tell Barbara, but I am seriously thinking of trading her elegant fifth-wheel trailer for something smaller. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, just as long as I can find something equally as nice as what she has. This big one would be more appropriate for someone who was going to set it up and stay for a few weeks or longer.
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