I admire Gene greatly, mainly because he is everything I am not. As we were driving to dinner last night in his 12-year old Subaru, I asked him how many miles it had. "180,000, but I had to put a new engine in it last year." He had found one cheap at a junkyard. Gene, who has a PhD in Geology, dropped out of college and opened a automobile repair shop at the age of 21. And as expected, he currently has a massive home improvement project in progress. The kitchen is being doubled in size, a laundry room has been added, several walls have been removed, and so on. But he did admit that he was going to have to hire someone to help him finish the kitchen.
Being a mathematician, my practical skills are somewhat limited, to say the least. In that, I take after my Dad, who was about the only person I've ever known who was less handy than I am. But I will admit to a flush of pride after I assembled a bike rack and installed it on the Enterprise last week. All by myself. With that extension, we measure about 25 ft. Longer than your average parking space, to be sure, but we're still able to park in most parking lots. This gives us a degree of mobility not enjoyed by most RVers. Not to mention the gas mileage. We're getting around 18 mpg so far, and that's driving 70-75 on the highway. On the flip side, interior space is at a premium. Sort of like below decks on a small sailing vessel.
Anyway, back to our trip. Early in his narrative, Steinbeck remarks at some length on the almost universal reaction he got when telling people about his trip. "Oh, I've always wanted to do that! I'm so envious! I wish I could come along!" And so on. And guess what? Fifty some-odd years later, I'm getting exactly the same responses. It's some sort of Jungian fantasy about The Open Road, or something. I refer you to one of my favorite books, "The Wind in the Willows" and the tale of Mr. Toad and his caravan. And of course there's also "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." Why this theme is so universal, I really can't say. Maybe it's actually in Jung. But if it isn't, it should be.
As I write this, we're camped beside a beautiful stream in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Not a freight train within miles. Seventeen dollars for two nights (with the senior discount), as opposed to $92.50 for two nights with the freights. My misguided right-wing friends who are so enamored of the efficacy of the profit motive might do well to ponder this comparison. The reason the RV park was located where it was, sandwiched in between the railroad line and a main highway rather than beside an idyllic stream, is because that kind of land is cheap -- who else would want it -- and that enables the owner to make a profit. Nobody's making a profit here, so the campsites don't have to be cheek by jowl either. Quite a contrast. Speaking of contrast, in order to even get into this park we had to run a two mile gauntlet of garish commercialism called Gatlinburg, TN. And this scene is repeated at almost every popular national park. My point here is not so much to sing the praises of socialism, but simply to point out that free enterprise, private property, and the profit motive are not a panacea. There are some facets of life which are not well-served by the profit motive; preserving and enjoying the beauty of nature being one of them. There are other examples: fire-fighting, police work, the courts and the rule of law, health care and education. Well, that's about it for now. Tomorrow we're back on the grid after two whole days with no cellphone or internet! See you in Nashville.
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