About 9 years ago, my girlfriend and I had the bright idea that we would quit our jobs in NY and travel across the lower 48 in a small Toyota motorhome. it was a pretty nice little vehicle with a combo shower/toilet, gas stove, gas fridge, plenty of cabinets, and even a small black and white AM/FM/TV. We bought it used for $7000 from a fellow named Martin. Martin was even kind enough to type up an illustrated manual on his word processor on how everything worked. We liked Martin. It was good karma to buy his motorhome.

Before we left NY, we had purchased the OFFICIAL CAMPGROUND DIRECTORY OF N. AMERICA. It was great - it had prices, charts with available services, maps. We were so set. So we decide to travel off the interstate and look for a cheaper place with some character that wasn't quite so KOA-ish. We got that and a whole lot more.

The campground we were eyeing in the directory was 50 miles west off the interstate in VA. We went through some very rural areas. So rural sometimes, that we thought we must have made a mistake, but no, the road was the right one. So we kept on driving, passing fields, churches, fields, more fields, churches and a small shed that had spray painted on the side, "Poor Boy's Disco." Finally we find the campground and pull in, relieved that we could now rest up after driving all day.

We pulled up to the main building where we would check in. From out front we couldn't see the campsites too well, but we weren't picky enough to drive all the way back to the interstate and begin looking for another place, so we figured everything was fine. No one was at the front desk, so we waited a few minutes. Suddenly, this black camaro comes screaming up from the campsites and skids into the parking lot. The guy who gets out is very large and obviously proud of his sports car. He's about 20 years old. He says, "How y'all doin'?" in a high-pitched voice. We went into the office with him and said we wanted a site for the night.

After filling out papers and all the usual crap, he looks over at me and says in his high-pitched southern drawl, "Say, do you know anything 'bout cameras?" I said I knew some things and asked him why. He took out a Polaroid Spectra from underneath the counter, holds in front of my face and says, "Everytime I hit this button (click!) the pictures don't seem to (click!) pop out right." (click!) "Do you know why?" (click!) The guy is holding a camera in my face and snapping photos like crazy! Then I notice he keeps taking the photos and sticking them under the counter as if he is performing some tricky sleight of hand maneuver. Not knowing what to make of this, I tell him I don't know what is wrong with his camera. He says OK and puts it away quickly - he obviously got what he wanted. Then I see behind him on a shelf is a big stack of Polaroid photos. All the pictures I could see on top were of people looking down into the camera with a puzzled look on their faces.

We're a little creeped out and want to complete our business. My girlfriend asks him if they allow cooking fires and he laughs and says, "You can start a fire aaaanywhere you want!"

We get back in our vehicle amd drive slowly through the campsites. We realize that we may be the only people in this campground who are not living there permanently. There were plenty of rusted motor homes with no tires up on blocks, lots of dogs and children, and strung together Bud cans like party lights. OK, this is weird, but we decide to just deal with it for one night.

For a reason I now forget, I didn't bother hooking up the water to our motor home. The restroom and showers weren't far anyway. I decide I need to use the men's room. There is a picnic table I have to walk by to get there and there are 4 goats standing around it. Goats are harmless. right? (said the white kid from the city). As I walking toward the table, one goat lunges forward a few feet and freezes, staring at me. The other goats also stop and stare. I was a little startled and had stopped. Then I thought, "they are just goats - go use the bathroom and stop being a wuss." As I walked closer, one goat got on top of the picnic table and they all started snorting and making noise looking upset that I am there. Something told me the goats meant business. They won - I found a nearby tree and watered it.