Backing in an RV shouldn't be this hard
My courtesy campsite at the Bridgeview RV Park on Lake Fork was right past the entrance gate. I pulled around to position our 36-foot fifth-wheel in preparation for backing in.
Then Wrong Willie came over to help, and things went horribly wrong from there.
He leases a trailer site there and asked us to join them for a weekend of crappie fishing, courtesy of the owner Bruce Figura. By the time we arrived Friday afternoon, I was sure the crappie were swimming in the air because of the heavy rain.
The falling weather wasn't going to help our backing in, however. The War Department usually assists me, but when Willie scurried around to the concrete slab, I told her to just relax and drop a crappie jig out the window.
"C'mon back!" Willie shouted as he waved his arms. I looked into my mirror and shifted into reverse. It suddenly felt like I was on board an aircraft carrier, with Willie giving hand signals the same way you'd direct jet fighters to prepare to launch. Willie looked as if he were applying for a part in an upcoming Top Gun sequel. Theme music from the movie played in my head.
The War Department looked into the mirror on her side. "What's he doing?"
"Driving me crazy," I said and started to back up the trailer.
Willie took a position on one knee and waved his arms frantically to the right. I turned the wheel to compensate for his directions. Then he flung his arms wide and waved them in another direction.
"I think he's having a seizure," I told the War Department.
"He's spilling his drink," she said.
"Don't worry. In this rain, it's already watered down. Can you see him on your side?"
"He keeps running behind the trailer to see where we are."
"But I see him here."
"He just ran to your side."
"He's supposed to be visible in my mirror, so I can watch him," I said.
"I know. You tell me the same thing every time."
"But that's what you're supposed to do," I insisted.
"Why have you stopped backing up?" Willie shouted, startling me as he suddenly appeared at the open window.
"You're supposed to be back there," I said, pointing.
"I was, but you guys are just sitting here arguing."
"We aren't arguing. We're talking," I said, looking around the RV park. Even in the driving rain I noticed how well the sites were planned. "Would you go back there, so I can get out of the road?"
"Sure," he said and hurried back to his position. Using both hands, he began flailing his arms again to direct me in. He took another knee, as if an airplane wing was going to pass overhead.
Then he settled back on his toes and held his glass in both hands. "Hah! Now he looks like Johnny Bench waiting for a fastball," I said.
"Just back up," the War Department said. "He'll get out of the way. The rain is slacking off, so we can get things hooked up ... if you ever get this thing positioned."
Willie frantically waved his arms to stop me. I pulled forward to get a better position and backed again. He waved an arm and a leg, some sort of bizarre move I had to translate. I took it as "Stop and Back Up Again."
I repositioned and again shifted in reverse. Seeing that I was too close to the pad's edge, I cut the wheel to back further. Willie almost threw himself under the rig to stop me.
"What?" I shouted through the open window.
"You might be going to far the other way!"
"I wasn't until you told me to go that way!"
"I thought you said you could back this thing," Willie said.
"I'm getting hungry," the War Department said. "Can we get settled in here?"
"Backing up!" I shouted out the open window and put the truck in gear. Things were finally looking up until Willie used both hands to point me in two different directions. I stopped, intending to shout something to him about his heritage, when the park's owner, Bruce, rolled up in his golf cart and inserted himself between Willie and my mirror.
He waved both hands for me to stop, then pointed upward at a huge tree limb about half an inch from the topmost corner of the trailer. "You might need to pull forward a little," he suggested.
"That's what I keep telling him," Willie said.
The War Department immediately de-trucked and hurried inside to get the rig set up. She waved across the road to Willie's wife, Jan, who was readying the grill for burgers.
"Back, right, back ... stop!" Bruce said. "That oughta do it."
"See, I told you it would be easy," Willie said.
Before I could answer, the skies opened up. Rain flowed in shallow rivers down the park's road. We hooked up the rig's life-support system and before long, though it seemed impossible, it rained even harder.
And then it rained some more, because it could, I guess, and I realized we were only three hours into our crappie fishing weekend and, well ...
... just wait for the next installment.
Reavis Wortham's address is reaviswortham@att.net.
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