I pulled into a spot in the crowded and cramped state campground, Silver Strand, in Coronado, California, yesterday. I was not in the best of moods, having pulled a trailer through the web of highways of Southern California the last five hours. My neighbor approached, too close for (my) comfort. “Hey,” he said, gesturing to the front of my truck with a beer can. “I see you’re from Maine. You drive all this way?”
You drive all this way? How to respond to that? So many options.
I smiled, so as to put my best face on, and pointing to the Airstream, said, “Didn’t fly it here.”
I immediately felt bad and good at the same time.