RV Adventure, Day One: The Lock Doctor

Thursday, June 26. The great adventure begins—me, my 12-year-old chow-corgi mix, Rudy, and my 16’ Nash trailer. Corvallis to Montana and onward.

Day One. Corvallis to Ochoco National Forest. About 170 miles, 4 1/2 hours.

Expenses:
Lock Doctor $78.00
Fuel $50.00
Propane $12.00
Lunch $5.00

All packed early this morning. I’ll just hook up, which is not rocket science, as I remind myself. It is the first time I’ve done it alone however. I’ll get the stabilizers and sway bar out of the side compartment of the trailer. No stress, I’ve got plenty of time—I’m planning to camp in the Ochocos in the middle of Oregon, only about 4 hours over the Cascades from home. It is a pocket of coolness at nearly 5000 feet, surrounded by Oregon’s high dessert, now getting uncomfortably hot in late June.

The lock on the side compartment of the trailer has always been fussy. I’ve got bent keys to prove it. This is where the hitch-up items are stored, along with the tools needed to let the awning up, and to put the stabilizers down so the trailer doesn’t rock when I’m parked. Plus, a few other tools.

This morning at 7:45—no way I can get that compartment open. I’m grunting loud enough for people already camping in the Ochocos to hear me, and I cannot get the dammed thing open.

Okay, call the Lock Doctor. It is not quite 8:00 a.m., but this is a lock emergency, right? Lock Doctors must work all hours. Two rings. Three rings…damn! Four rings and a man with a calm voice answers, “Lock Doctor, how may I help you?” Sweeter words were never spoke!

I tell him my story, he asks directions; he can be here in half an hour. Sweet!

Okay, I’m all packed and ready except for hooking up the trailer. I was going to hold off on the shower until afterward, but with half an hour to wait, might as well take it now.

Feels good, and I get out and apply a new lotion I got while I was stocking up on travel-sized toiletries. Olay Body, the bottle says. I like Olay products. I squirt some into the palm of my hand, and start rubbing it, two-handed, onto my legs. Jeez, this stuff is THICK!

I squirt a little more and rub it on my arms. It stays on my skin like frosting on a cake. Yuk. Wish I’d stuck with the cheap stuff I usually buy.

I am just about to exit the bathroom and get dressed when my brain says, “wait a minute, why is that stuff so thick, and why isn’t it sinking in?” I peer at the plastic bottle, no glasses on: Olay Body, it says, then something about it moisturizing your skin….uh huh, uh huh, the Lock Doctor is going to be here any minute, and unlike other doctors, he may not expect me to be naked.

Then I see, at the bottom of the label, in small letters, the words, Body Wash. This is SOAP, not lotion! Back in the shower I go, frantically washing the soap off, trying to remember to rinse all the parts I’ve rubbed it on.

Doubly clean and properly clothed, I meet the Lock Doctor, who replaces the faulty lock, and I begin to hook up the trailer. He admires my skill at getting near the hitch the first time I back up, and I am feeling pretty darned confident, until, that is, I try to drive away with the chocks in front of all four wheels.