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Perhaps your bedroom was 56 degrees when you woke up this morning, but probably not. Unless you’re living in a tent. Or in a camping car.

Nuris and I are still visiting with friends in Pinedale, Wyoming where I have retrieved and am acquainting myself with my nearly-new, rather old Winnebago View. We spent our second night inside the camping car last night. Cozy!

In terms of systems a camping car is like a house, only smaller and more complicated. Certainly it’s waaay more complicated than the tent camping that has mostly been my outdoor experience in recent years. But, on the plus side, the bed is surprisingly comfortable and the gas furnace soon had the bedroom and the living room (but not so much the bathroom) up to 72 degrees. This is still a bit chilly for us but appropriate for the first cup of coffee and these paragraphs.

In the continental United States, Pinedale is close to nothing, and so smugly greets visitors with the proclamation the city provides “all the civilization you need.” I imagine that my friends from Pinedale might take exception to me characterizing the proclamation as “smug.” I’ll bet they would prefer “wry,” or maybe “witty,” neither of which would be wrong. But I’m going to stick with “smug” and take my lumps as needs be.

By virtue of geologic good fortune and a few quirks of climate and tax policy, Pinedale is a thriving small community. Unlike so much of small-town America, Pinedale displays very little of the economic distress and consequent social malaise that afflicts thousands of American towns of comparable size. In the homogenizing era of big-box stores, consolidated school districts, and the pervasive and corrosive politics of Perpetual Petulance, Pinedale appears to be doing just fine. Which speaks to more than mere good fortune. More accurately, it speaks to good people, who happen to be fortunate.

The day before hitting the highway I was disappointed to discover that neither the gas-fired, nor electric powered method of starting the refrigerator were successful. And after the full allotment of two attempts at starting the thing (!) It moved into “lockout” mode. In the interest of keeping cool I went out and bought an ice chest, which is riding on the floor right in front of the refrigerator.

I’d like to think the refrigerator is embarrassed and I, somewhat smugly, think that my placing the ice box directly in front of the refrigerator is wry. Or maybe witty. But really it’s just an annoying intrusion placed in the least inconvenient place it can be. Too bad it won’t fit inside the refrigerator.

When I get a break in the action I’ll get into my RV refrigerator. How difficult can a thirteen year-old mobile refrigerator with 110v and propane power, both controlled by a 12v panel be? More on the subject later. Perhaps.

Our first evening finds Nuris and I parked beside the Snake River in Idaho, where life, in the main, is very, very good.

Hope you feel the same wherever you may be, and whatever the temperature of your bedroom.

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