"I found one!" These are the words that greeted me upon answering my phone that afternoon.
My wife had spotted an old camper somewhere, while I was innocently at work, and had accepted it as her own the moment she laid eyes upon it. "We're going to look at it when you get home..." I took this to mean that it was for sale, and having spoken to someone, she had agreed upon a time to look at it. This was quickly dispelled as she coached me on what to say, when I was to blindly knock on a stranger's door to inquire about the camper that lay dormant on their property.
After striking a deal with the owner, and coercing my friend (on his wedding anniversary) to help me tow the camper from it's resting place, at night, in the pouring rain, we finally cut down the tree that that had grown around the camper, with a chainsaw borrowed from the owner. The estimated number of years that it had been sitting there, rotting in the shadows? Ten. Ten years. Just imagine.
We then dragged it home behind my friend's dump truck, in the cover of darkness, with no license plate. Did I mention that is was pouring rain?
The scene that first arrival night is a great representation of what was yet to come for us, over the 12 months (and still counting) that were to follow, during the resurrection of this poor, forgotten camper.
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