Wintering Blues? First Landing...
We pulled into Valle Del Oreo on November 15th, 2022 after I signed up for a work camping gig at their Prickly Pear Grille. Maria and I were greeted by a smiley white lady with curly hair. I opened the Mothership window and she handed us two snack packs of Oreos saying, "Welcome to Valle Del OREO!" and laughed. She proceeded on telling us to follow the yellow line in the road to check our rig in.
The park was 55+ resort style. I knew this going in. The prices for rent were steep, ($1224.00 for rent, a cost for garbage/sewer, a cost for eletricity plus $20 "other charge" and tax on that) for our standards, but compared to the dump that I worked all summer in Pennsylvania, making virtually nothing, this gig sounded like a better set up and I'd hopefully be able to make some cash. I "followed the yellow line" admiring the palm trees that lined the streets. There was a cluster of buildings that included the office, a post area, a pool, grill, stage, a beauty salon, a silversmith, a leather shop (I guess for the kinky fifty-five plus couples?) and I pulled the Mothership into an area designated for rigs.
An older man, or "ranger" according to his golf cart, instructed me on heading into the office for check in. After many signatures, a pin prick of my DNA, and a packet of codes, Wi-Fi passwords and setting up our account for the campground we were well on the way to our site in the resort. While driving to our site in the park I noticed entitlement, stamped on virtually every fucking 55 plus person. People walked, meandered, ambled in every direction, disregarding the fact that I was navigating a rig that could flatten them. Golf carts whizzed past stop signs in utter disregard. To top it all off the ranger, half blind in one eye, attempted, with every single neighbor gathered around my site putting in their two cents, to back me in.
After what seemed tooooooooooooo fucking long, I got the Mothership level, slides out, and unpacked our chairs outside. We were home, and the Mothership had landed for the winter. Would "Valle Del Oreo" be sufficient? I don't know, tune in next week to check out how I do at the job, the people I meet, and live vicariously through this journey with me. Thanks for reading.
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Tim Eagle is an author of the novellas Stolen Seed and Krae. He lives full time, on the road, with his wife, Maria and their dog, Cocoa. He grew up in Michigan and is inspired by the dysfunction, insanity, and nepotism of rural America. His books are available on Amazon, godless and this site timeaglefiction.com Thanks for reading, tune in next week for the next chapter...