Our Maiden Voyage: Shaking It Down (Literally)
Ah, the maiden trip. The one where you boldly venture into the wild (or, in our case, a state park) to “shake down” all the kinks and quirks of your new camper. This is the trip where you learn, grow, and—most importantly—hope to avoid becoming the subject of a viral reel for all the wrong reasons.
We made it safely to the campsite, a victory worth celebrating. Not only that, but we managed to park and set up without bumping into anything or becoming the unwitting entertainment for our campground neighbors. Settled in amongst the more seasoned campers, we enjoyed a weekend of campfire meals, hikes, bike rides and exploring. It was bliss.
Then came Sunday.
Sunday afternoon, we packed up, feeling confident and accomplished. Our final task? The dump station. We were ready. Gloves? Check. Paper towels? Check. Sanitizer? Oh, you better believe it. We pulled up, grateful there wasn’t a line of impatient campers behind us, this cannot be overstated.
My husband, ever the picture of readiness, grabbed the black hose, hooked it up, positioned it in the drain, and bravely pulled the black tank lever. We heard the satisfying swoosh of tank contents rushing into the hose. And then... nothing.
Wait. What? Why wasn’t it draining?
Panic set in. We checked and rechecked everything. The lever was pulled, the hose was hooked up, we heard it go into the hose! So why wasn’t it doing what it was supposed to do?
After some frantic troubleshooting, my husband discovered the culprit: the cap. The cap that he had left on the end of the hose. Yes, folks, there it was, blocking the flow like a tiny, smug villain.
Cue the chaos. He closed the tank lever, but now he was stuck with a hose full of crap, with only one manual way out. Holding his breath and contorting his body as far away as possible he yanked off the elbow attachment, removed the offending cap, and did his best to aim everything into the drain. No witnesses, thank goodness, but the stress and embarrassment were palpable. We cleaned up, finished the job, and vowed this would never happen again.
Famous last words.
Fast forward to our next trip. This time, my husband made a point of triple-checking that the cap was off the hose. Feeling confident, he opened the black tank lever. And once again… nothing.
What now?! Mortified, mystified, and in utter shock, he retraced his steps. That’s when he discovered it: the cap he had so carefully removed had rolled into the elbow attachment. That sneaky little thing sat there like it owned the place, causing a repeat of the previous disaster.
There was no saving it this time. The cap met its untimely end that day, leaving behind some crappy memories of chaos and confusion.
Lessons were learned and the adventure continues. Remember, mishaps make memories.
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