It’s been a busy week.
I left home Monday and took the train to Ramstein Air Base, where I spent the night and then boarded a Space-A flight to the U.S. I arrived on Tuesday, spent that night with a friend in D.C., then drove to another friend’s house in Pennsylvania where I spent the next three nights. Last night I was back in D.C., and right now I am at BWI-Baltimore International Airport waiting to see if I get a seat on tonight’s Space-A flight back to Ramstein.
Along the way, I also visited with two other friends (one I hadn’t seen in 22 years!) and my husband’s nephew.
I test drove two big pick-up trucks, both currently in contention to pull our big rig.
Oh, yeah … the rig. I bought one.
We are now the proud owners of a Forest River Salem Hemisphere Lite fifth wheel trailer. Forty-two feet long, eight feet wide and 13 feet high, weighing in at 11,249 pounds.
Holy crap. This is actually happening.
My heart is racing and my hands are shaking. I have been obsessing about the purchase ever since I sealed the deal on Friday at Keystone RV in Greencastle, Pa. Because I got such a great price, and because the salesman was so good at his job, I bought one slightly larger and nicer than what we had planned. My driver, aka my husband Mark, has yet to see it in person. Every time I’ve talked to him since I have told him I hope I didn’t make a rookie mistake.
Did I buy something too big? Well, it’s only two feet longer than what Mark and I agreed on and within our maximum weight limit.
Did I buy something too nice? We do have to live it in for a year. Maybe I deserve a stainless steel fridge bigger than the one in our current apartment.
Did I pay too much? This is where I make myself feel better. We paid considerably less than we had budgeted.
Those rationalizations are helping me accept the fact that we will be hauling this big hoss around the country. But more than that, this two-line email from my husband made it all feel so right:
“Looked at the pictures again. We can do this.”
I love that man. I picture him driving down the road in shorts, flip flops and his ratty old Florida State baseball cap, behind the wheel of the giant truck, with the giant trailer behind us, elbow out the window, negotiating any obstacle in our way.
My heart isn’t racing and my hands aren’t shaking now.
I am smiling.
We can do this.