Apr 21 2011

Lessons learned at the County Fair

Being former Vermonters, we are inclined to believe in perennial traditions such as late winter harvesting of maple sap, April snowfall, and the fall county fair. Where in more urbane settings the county fair might be considered a hokey and archaic gathering of yokels and hooligans, Vermonters know that the county fair is one of those places where you can count on meeting your friends and seeing their children proudly displaying the heifers they raised from calves. Rather than being an opportunity to eat fried Twinkies and shop for hot tubs, the Vermont county fair is an occasion for adults to exchange sociable greetings between the display of New Holland tractors and the 4-H tent.

For kids, the attractions are more basic. Sugary sweets (cotton candy, funnel cakes, flavored ice) and rides that spin your head off are the reason to go. We adults pretend to tolerate this because we want our children to grow up to appreciate the finer aspects of the county fair later, but in reality we still wish to recapture the simple thrill of the midway and its colored lights, barkers, and rigged games as remember them from our own childhoods. By holding the hand of an excited child tugging our way to the Tilt-A-Whirl, we can at least touch the memory briefly.

So once in a while, we take Emma to the county fair. Here in Arizona, the season is upside down in an attempt to beat the heat, with the Pima County Fair happening in April rather than the traditional northern schedule of August or early September. This disconcerts us a bit, because we associate the fair with the coming of pick-your-own apple season, and the quickening of chill in the evenings. The ground should be damp from the last of the summer thunderstorms, and hearts should be bittersweet with the knowledge that the preponderance of summer is gone but a last thrill awaits.

Dusty air and a sense of intense sun are the hallmarks of an Arizona county fair; after all, the heat of summer is just around the corner. In a month we will hit 100 degrees for the first time and, as they say locally, the ice will melt in the Santa Cruz River. (That is definitely a tongue-in-cheek statement, since the Santa Cruz bears no surface water for much of its length and ice is only found in drinks around here.) So here the County Fair represents the impending turn of seasons, as snowbirds flee and Arizonans call for their annual air conditioning checkups.

County fairs come in all sizes and persuasions, from the tiny Stalwart County Fair (Michigan) that features agricultural exhibits and not much else, to the extra-large events in major urban areas that are primarily a mix of rock concert venue and carnival. A nearly-universal attraction of modern fairs, however, are the rides: slides, coasters/flumes, spinners, and drops are the basic tools of the amusement park ride developer, and once in a while you can mix up a few elements to come up with something like the “Disk-O” (above). There is little that can be called new, but then love is nothing new and yet people still practice it.

In the section of the park that is oriented to big kids and childish adults, the rides are almost always the same as I remember from my childhood but with louder music and stranger airbrushed graphics. The spinning “Himalayan” that Emma loves is called the “Rave” here, and it features a giant King Neptune as disk jockey wearing sunglasses and an audio headset. On a nearby ride I see airbrush art of clowns bearing machine guns. Nothing makes sense but it all somehow fits in an absurd, Alice-In-Wonderland sort of way.

The aluminum handrails of the “Moscow Circus” are sticky with thousands of hands that have recently been handling greasy corn dogs, gooey nachos slathered in cheese, pizza slices, turkey legs, funnel cakes, and deep-fried Snickers bars. I think about handwashing or applying Purell, Emma thinks, “Let’s go again!” — and the adult part of me fades away, the child wins out, and we go again, and then find another ride until the sun has long been behind us and the lights of the fair have come on to create a new world that bears exploring yet again. You can’t compete with that sort of magic, and pretending it isn’t there is a very “adult” thing to do, which in kid-speak means stupid. Just let it wash over you, because escapism is something most of us don’t practice often enough.

I think the best aspect of the county fair is its transience. It happens only a few days each year, and then it slinks away on trucks to find a home elsewhere. You have to participate when it is ready, like eating a chocolate chip cookie hot out of the oven. Wait a little while and the little chips aren’t melted anymore. Wait a few days, and they’re gone. This small window of opportunity forces you to rise up out whatever doldrum you may be feeling and taste the experience at its very peak, which is a good lesson for all of us. Life doesn’t wait, any more than the county fair does.

Apr 15 2011

LBJ Grasslands

I just realized that I haven’t attended a rally as a camper in about two years. There was a time when we were frequent rally-hoppers, attending events all over the country, but gradually our participation became less. I can’t say why, exactly. It just seems to be a natural evolution of our priorities, and perhaps a reflection that over time I’ve become less of an attendee and more of an organizer.

The gathering of Airstreams here in the LBJ Grasslands has been in many ways a classic “vintage” event. All of the common elements that I remember from earlier years are here: a wide assortment of old Airstreams, relaxed and generally happy owners eager to socialize, and a particular emphasis on shared meals.

Our site is a rough-mown section of grasslands, atop a point of land with a moderately panoramic view and exceptional privacy. The road leading in is gravel and dirt, and only one lane wide at spots, which contributes to a sense that you have arrived somewhere well away from the hubbub of the world. A multi-use trail passes by (largely occupied by horses), otherwise there are no facilities whatsoever. What we have brought with us in our Airstreams is all we will have for the days we are here.

Fortunately that’s no problem. Eleanor made sure that the Caravel was packed full of food both for my meals and to contribute to the potluck dinners that have been planned. Even though this trailer is smaller than the one we usually use, it has almost all the same amenities — and everything you might need, in less space.

Occupying yourself at an event like this is easy. There’s always someone who wants to talk, or show their trailer off, or see yours. In between, I usually find time to read, write, nap, or contemplate. It can be exceptionally relaxing, especially in a location such as this where modern distractions are kept at a distance.

I didn’t really expect to find many “newbies” here, but I brought five copies of the new book anyway, and it didn’t take long to find people who needed them. Most of the people here are very experienced, and in fact 13 couples attending are people we’ve camped with before, or at whose houses we’ve courtesy parked. But there are always new people entering the vintage Airstream community, and being at an event like this is a great way for them to get up the learning curve quickly.

Being on the fringe of the civilized world does have one disadvantage to me at the moment. Cellular phone service is iffy here, and I’m not able to get photos to upload to the blog tonight. But once I’m back in the world I’ll update this blog with several pictures of the scene, and perhaps a few more thoughts on the day.

Mar 30 2011

Virtual caravanning

I’m deep into the Summer 2011 magazine, as is normal for this time of year, but between editing articles my mind is straying to Alumapalooza. It’s coming up in two months.

We’ve sold out of trailer spaces on the field (the limit was 200) and the schedule is about 95% solidified, so at this point you’d think the major work would be done. But in fact there’s much more to do. We are still registering “walk-in” attendees, and there are a thousand small details to finalize. Brett and I will be very busy in the two months between now and May 31, 2011 when it all officially begins.

The last couple of weeks before the event, we’ll head out from our respective locations (me in Arizona and Brett in Florida) heading for Ohio, like 200 other trailers that are coming from all corners of the country. I’ve been toying with the idea of organizing a caravan as many other people are doing, but because of the way we are going to travel I’ve conceded that it won’t work.

Instead, I’m working on a concept of “virtual caravanning.” The idea is that many people who are traveling to Alumapalooza via differing routes can share their experiences through the Internet, both with fellow virtual caravanners and people who are unable to attend. As a small first step, I’ve set up a Twitter account called “airstreamlife” which I’ll use to post quick notes and photos from the road as we go. Fellow travelers can follow airstreamlife and we’ll follow you as you travel as well.

Now, long-time readers of this blog will remember my rant some time back when I explained in excruciating detail why I have — to this point– avoided using Twitter and Facebook. But I’m not a total Luddite, just a highly critical adopter, and my perspective has changed. The iPhone has now given me a very useful mobile tool that integrates with Twitter. Now I can easily post photos with short notes from the road as we go. That’s a much more interesting form and reason for communication, to me, and so I’ll explore it a little. It’s an experiment. Still, this blog will remain the primary outlet for all things related to Airstream Life and our restless travels.

In the next few days, we will be occupied with a few spring visitors. Erica is coming back today from Texas, with a Globe Trotter that she is delivering to a mutual acquaintance, and we are going to have a little driveway camping session to get the new owner up to speed. On Friday we are expecting another guest, and next week a third, so life is going to be more exciting than it has been thanks to the folks who are swinging through. More on that later.

Mar 22 2011

Living vicariously

I’m starting to appreciate the feelings of people who have read my blogs for years, living vicariously through us and thinking about the next time they will get to break away for a road trip — because now I’m one of those people. Except for our trip at New Year’s to Anza-Borrego, we haven’t moved the Airstream since October.

It’s not for lack of ideas. This was a planned pause, specifically so we could take care of things that could best be done while we were parked, but it is mostly behind us now. All of the routine medical exams are done, Emma’s orthodontics are on auto-pilot, Modernism Week 2011 is done, the Newbies book is done, Alumapalooza is about 90% set, and I can always work on the magazine from the road. So at this point we are under very little obligation to stay put in Tucson.

It is springtime here, which means lots of days in the 70s and 80s, and believe it or not, plenty of pollen. I notice it somewhat, but Eleanor is virtually incapacitated, which is a drag anytime but especially tragic in the stunningly beautiful weather we get this time of year. We can’t go hiking up in the mountains to take in the spectacular views and desert blooms. Naturally, the idea has struck us to escape to some part of the country where pollen is less of an issue, and that has led to temptation of the sort that causes us to spend hours browsing maps and weather reports, and reading blogs of fellow travelers who are currently exploring.

All kinds of places are suddenly appealing to me. It was about this time three years ago that we went to Bahia Kino in Sonora, MX and lazed around on the beach for four days. If things were a little quieter in Sonora right now I’d be inclined to revisit that trip, just for the chance to stroll a quiet sandy beach and listen to the waves at night. Or perhaps we could dash off to the foggy Redwood National Park in northern California, where the humpback whales are passing by in their annual migration.

But really, we probably will stay put, with the exception of a quickie weekend here or there. It is not as interesting as traveling but I feel like we are earning credit somehow. There’s something to be said for maintaining continuity at least. This is the longest period we’ve been out of the Airstream since 2004, and I suppose it indicates that we are gradually learning how to be “normal” people. So far I’m not impressed with the perks of normalcy, but nonetheless we will stay and get our work done, save our pennies, and plan & dream. When we do finally get back on the road, it will feel like we’ve earned it.

Once we do venture out, the trick will be making the planned trip — a long Interstate slog on roads we’ve seen several times before — into something more than just a 1,900 mile death march. Our primary purpose in May will be to get to Ohio for Alumapalooza 2011. That’s something we can do in four days if we press hard, seven days if we travel half-days, and two weeks if we do it in our classic “stop and smell the roses” style. I was initially not feeling very good about being on the road for a long period of time because I was concerned about work I needed to do, but that’s crazy. Since when is work the most important thing? I can clear the decks before we go and deal with the little things that pop up as needed, and maybe even take a few days off. Let’s make it a two week trip and really enjoy it. I might even use the “v-word” (vacation) but not too loudly because this is supposed to be a business trip.

Speaking of which, I’ve been having some conversations with Marty Shenkman, a tax lawyer who is also behind RV4theCause.org. Marty uses his Airstream as a business tool, as I do, and both of us have some concerns about the correct way to deduct, document, and depreciate our travel trailers. We’re having a rather spirited debate, since he does it one way and I do it another way, and Marty’s CPA has joined in with his own thoughts on the subject. The key, of course, is finding a way to bulletproof ourselves against audit challenges, since an Airstream can be viewed both as a home and a business vehicle, and each can be handled differently from a tax standpoint.

The outcome of this has been that Marty will be researching the subject further and presenting at Alumapalooza. His topic is going to be something like, “Making Your Airstream A Deductible Business Asset,” which I bet will appeal to all the folks who would like to work from the road. You can bet that I’ll be in the front row to hear what he has to say (and heckle him if needed).

But I’m not mentioning this to push Alumapalooza. We’re basically sold out — just five spaces left as of today — and as far as I’m concerned, 195 trailers is plenty! My only wish at this point is that we don’t have the usual Jackson Center summer weather pattern, which includes chilly fog, rain, sun, intense heat, humidity, thunderstorms, and a chance of tornadoes all in the same day. Given the dramatic mood swings of the local weather, I suppose I should be impressed that 380 people are going to join us in that field next to the manufacturing plant. Brave souls, every one.

So we are in the same boat as all the frozen northerners now. We’re at home, waiting for the moment when we can hitch up and head out, and in the meantime we are dreaming of what’s to come. For those of you in the north, hang in there–spring is coming. For those of you who are on the road right now, take a picture and update your blog for me.

Mar 18 2011

Caravanning in the 21st century

I like caravanning. In our full-time travels we occasionally would link up with another Airstreamer and travel with them for a while. Our buddy Rich C was with us on and off for about four months. We also had a very memorable impromptu caravan from the International Rally in Salem OR, across Washington and Idaho to Montana with three other Airstreams, and a couple of years ago we organized a group of three Airstreams down to Bahia Honda in Sonora MX.

My style of caravanning is pretty casual. Point to the destination, agree on a rough routing, and let everyone go at their own pace. On our northwestern caravan we found that everyone spread out quite a lot, so the only practical way to stay in touch was with cell phones. If someone wanted to meet up for lunch, they’d call and we’d compare notes on possible stopping points. There was never any obligation to stay with the group, because we wanted everyone to feel free and unencumbered.

Whoever got to the destination first typically assumed responsibility for checking out a good campground and telling the rest of the group where to go. We agreed that if anyone got sidetracked or delayed, we wouldn’t hold up the group — they could just catch up later. In other words, not much structure and no rules other than the common conventions of good behavior. It worked, probably because of the sort of people we invited along: independent and confident Airstreamers with plenty of travel experience.

Having done this a few times, I have been curious to see if the system would work for a larger group that wasn’t just friends who were well-known to us. We’re going to be heading out of Arizona sometime in mid-May to work our way up to Alumapalooza, and that trip seemed to present a fine opportunity to collect a bunch of hardy Airstreamers for an experimental caravan/adventure.

But after considering everything, I think we are going to have to pass on that idea this time. The weeks leading up to Alumapalooza are going to be very busy for me, and it is quite possible that at some point on the way up we may have to unexpectedly stop somewhere for a day or two just so I can work. That wouldn’t be terribly fun for a group of people who were expecting to have regular progress. “Hey everyone, let’s all enjoy this parking lot RV park near the highway, because it’s the only place that my cell phone works.”

Still, we might cross paths with a friend or two along the route. We don’t usually nail down our exact route in advance, preferring to leave some room for spontaneity, so I think the best way to manage this is to try a real-time Internet solution. I’m considering various methods to post our current location and immediate next destination in a semi-private location, so that a group of friends who we’ve already organized can be updated on a daily basis and share their plans with us at the same time.

I noticed at the Modernism Week show that virtually everyone was sporting an iPhone. I am a relative Luddite in that regard, having held onto the philosophy that phones are meant to be phones. I like them to be small, durable, easy to use, and long-lasting, a test which most more “advanced” devices have failed miserably since the first so-called smartphones were introduced in the 1990s. But I could no longer deny that the iPhone (and probably a few other similar phones) has finally achieved at least a halfway decent compromise. Instead of just packing stupid & gratuitous features onto a phone, it represents a decent advance in technology with a feature set that actually adds value to the basic audio-only phone. It only took about fifteen years from the first tentative steps that I watched as a wireless industry analyst in the mid-1990s.

I actually don’t care about most of the things that an iPhone can do, but I do see where instant and easy communications via an Internet-capable phone and some sort of coordinating service “in the cloud” (meaning on the Internet) could be a really useful way to coordinate a group of roaming travelers. We could post our route maps, share real-time updates from the road including photos, coordinate meeting points, ask for help, and generally just play the social-network game to while away the miles. So perhaps I’ll finally break down and get an iPhone next month. Verizon owes me one more “New every two” upgrade anyway, for whatever that’s worth.

The real problem with better communication technology is reining it in. Only the social mores and respectfulness of people hold back what often becomes a deluge of useless information. I am already reachable by email, phone, voicemail, website contact form, fax, Google Buzz, and AOL Instant Messenger. I have steered clear of Twitter & Facebook in part because I can’t handle any more. A smart phone means the darned thing knows how to bug me with information I’d often rather not have, in places I’d rather not receive it. I’m not a believer that having more tech on your hip automatically makes you more productive. So I’m going to program it to be rather selective about what it tells me. But having said that, there might be a fun road-geek experience coming up.

The other issue with caravanning to Alumapalooza is simply that I have to get there a few days early for setup, and I can’t bring a group of people with me — there’s no place for them to stay! That’s easily resolved by having the group break off to some attraction in the area. There are many things to do near Jackson Center, as well in nearby Indiana, Michigan, and Kentucky. I’ll be envious of them, while we are stuffing goody bags in the humidity, staking out campsites, etc.

Perhaps caravanning will evolve to an entirely different sort of experience in the future. The social and safety aspects of traveling in a group can stay, using modern communications to allow people to share their experiences and collective knowledge while maintaining their independence. The new generation of Airstreamers seems to want that. Already I’ve seen groups traveling like that, not calling themselves “caravans,” but instead inventing a new set of guidelines and tools to enable a vibrant and social experience nonetheless. Hmmm…I’ll keep thinking about it.