Surprise, surprise, the trailer was totalled by my insurance company. Now all that remains to be seen is how badly I’m screwed in the process.

The first guy I tried to get an estimate from wouldn’t touch it. He said it was too big of a job for him to do by himself, and anyway, many of those parts that would need to be replaced for an insurance restoration aren’t available any more. If I were to buy it back, we could get it back on the road in a much uglier (but functional) state, but even that would be a pricey project, what with the bashed-in door and all. I decided not to mess with buying it back; I don’t have the money to spend on it or a place to work on it, and why throw thousands of dollars back into a trailer that would only come out worth one or two when I was done?

So I went down and cleaned all of my stuff out the other day. Man, was that sad. I was so proud of that thing, but when I think about it, it gave me at least as many headaches as the old broken-down one did. Between the dealer screwing me around for so long and random things breaking, it was a pain. At least with an ancient one, you don’t worry so much about keeping it nice. If the toilet falls out of the floor, oh well.

After I called another dealer to get the blue book range to prepare myself from the screwing, it became clear that I’m going to have to get another loan. Sure, I could buy another old broken down one like my first hoopty, but I’ve become a little spoiled. I like showers that work, and I really like heaters. I have all winter to shop around, so I’ll try to find something a little smaller (so it will fit in the driveway) and a little newer (to postpone the inevitable breakdowns.)

Just not buying one for a couple of years has crossed my mind, but I really don’t like the idea of going back to tent camping. Not camping at all is not an option; this is what I do. This is my main hobby, and having a trailer makes it possible to just up and go on short notice. And it’s not as if I don’t get my money’s worth out of these things. A trip or two in the winter and early spring doesn’t really justify payments, but going every other weekend, if not more frequently, for the three months of hunting season sure does. It would have been longer than three months this year too, as I’d planned to spend some time varmint hunting in January and February. I practically live in the thing in the fall.

So now the shopping begins, both for financing and for a trailer. I’m very leery of going through another dealer after the hosing that Dan Gamel gave me, so I really hope my credit union can come through with a check for me so I can buy one from a private party. If they won’t, there are other, less crooked dealers with which I can work. The one in Los Banos has a very nice one advertised right now, if a little too new and expensive for me.

I’m not in a hurry; something will come along.

Swiped from Heather, who had a good idea, but I’d rather get my own entry out of it than post in her comments. I’m assuming all sorts of relationships, not just romantic ones here.

1. That I can do any damn thing I want to do.

2. How to be professional in business, and to leave emotion out of it.

3. How to hunt.

4. How to ride a four-wheeler.

5. How to run a chainsaw.

6. How to change a tire and rebuild a carburetor.

7. That if I ask nicely, someone else may change my tire or rebuild my carburetor. If I had one (carburetor, that is) which I do not any more.

8. That it’s nicer and easier to just be straightforward and honest, rather than playing games.

9. How to run an excavator.

10. That sometimes in life, you have to follow your heart.

11. To let the diesel motor idle for just a minute before I shut it off.

12. To back a trailer.

13. The value of the working man’s perspective.

14. To chew tobacco (not that I do this! [often])

15. How to castrate a steer, shoot a rifle, and drive a car.

16. That confidence can be hotter than any amount of makeup or sexy clothes.

17. To skin a frog, and to cook it.

18. To love.

19. To listen.

20. To live.

After another short but productive weekend of hunting, I find that almost all of the bear pictures I have include someone else’s children, so they won’t be posted.

I made it to the first tree after a long morning of nothing. I was the last one there, and I could see both the bear and the guys on the other side of the ravine, so I climbed back up a little and got on the correct side. That way, they wouldn’t have to hesitate to shoot if they needed to, not knowing where I was. And sure enough, that bear decided he’d had enough and decided to boogie. The shooter got off one shot, but missed him, and the dogs were turned loose again.

Don and I went one way to listen to them and the other guys went the other. As it happens sometimes, we were too far away to get there once he was treed again. So I had the most unusual experience of being able to amble to a tree. It was great; level ground along that same creek that turned my legs to numb stumps with my bear, but I mostly got to stay out of the water this time. I pokied along in the back, looking at stuff and taking pictures. It’s finally damp in the forest, and all of a sudden, the mushrooms are popping out like crazy. I swear, some that weren’t there when we went in had erupted when we came back out a couple of hours later.

You know me; when I see something interesting, I take a picture of it. So I have fifty pictures of tiny little fungi and other small forest details, and the guys laughed like hell at me. I warned them that I’m a huge geek, but I don’t think they really grasped that before. I’d be taking normal pictures of the bear and the people, and then all of a sudden, drop to my knees squinting at a half-inch tall white spot.

We thought these ones were oyster mushrooms, and if so; delicious! I even had one in my pocket for a while to take home to identify, but I figured it would get slimy in an hour of two, so I gave it back. No mushroom-tasting without expert advice, preferably an expert who’s eating them right alongside me!

Everyone left on Friday after we got the bear back into camp. I was all for staying, but the boys were uneasy about leaving me by myself. I thought it would be a great excuse to go off and take pictures without slowing anyone else up, but they ganged up on me with the one-two punch of, “We’ll follow you out” and “You know, the roads will be icey until tomorrow afternoon.” Since I do not do ice very well, and especially not without someone looking for my crushed body at the bottom of the cliff, I elected to pack up in a hurry and come on home. Besides, when I camp alone, I always have my dog with me, and although there were fourteen dogs there, not a one of them was mine. It’s just as well; I had a ton of stuff to do, but I always hate to leave that place.