Too many pens

Now this is embarrassing. What you see in this picture are five coffee mugs, each filled mostly with pens. This is from my home. Two of the mugs are from my desk. One is from the top of a bookshelf in my living room. One is from on top of a floor-model 1940s Motorola radio in my dining room. The other is from my kitchen counter. I do not know how many pens there are except "too many."

I bet I did not buy more than a dozen of these pens. Most were giveaways. Some of these pens have traveled a bit. About a half dozen are from Best Western Hotels. There's one from the Silver Legacy Hotel in Reno and one from the University of Redlands Alumni Association that says "Alumni Make a Difference." Two pens came from Gregory B Moulton DDS with the message "Family Dentistry with a Gentle Touch." I have never heard of Dr. Moulton. There's a pen from Chuck's RV, and one that simply says #1 Grandpa. I am not a grandpa, so nobody gave me that pen.

I bet I have another 100 pens in drawers. It's ridiculous. Why does a person need so many pens? I could easily get by with about a half dozen blue ones, a couple of black ones, and maybe a red one or two. I don't think I would ever need a green pen.

The problem with having too many pens is that:
--It's really hard to make yourself throw away something that still works.
--You can't give them to other people because they have too many pens, too.
--You can't sell them because they're worthless.

And to think that ballpoint pens were once an amazing, expensive thing! The first big success selling ballpoint pens came in 1945 when Gimbels Department Store sold 10,000 in one day at $12.50 each! People lined up outside the store to buy one. A lot of people tried to invent a ballpoint pen before then, starting in the late 1800s. But the pens never worked right. In 1952 a Frenchman named Marcel Bich hit it big when he introduced the "Ballpoint Bic," which is known today as the Bic.

So what should I do with all my pens. Have any ideas?

A good back scratch is an excellent thing

Do you like your back scratched or rubbed? I know many people who would rather have it scratched. I grew up in a family of back scratchers. To this day, I need my back scratched. It's not that my back actually itches: it's the pleasure of a back scratch. If I close my eyes when getting my back scratched, I can fall into a trance and even hallucinate. Who needs drugs?

A back RUB is nice. I enjoy a back rub. But when given a choice between a back rub and a back scratch, I will take a back scratch every time.

I own a couple of back scratching devices so I can scratch my own back. The best ones are made out of wood. You can buy them for a dollar. They work okay, but offer only modest satisfation. The best people for back scratchers are those with long fingernails. People who bite their nails are almost worthless.

If there were a device available like the one shown on this page, I would buy it.

One very significant reason to have a spouse is to have a live-in back scratcher. People who crave back scratches should avoid marrying someone who is reluctant to scratch. Kids are good, too, but they often don't have much patience, so they are kind of a hit-and-miss thing.

I do not own a dog. But if a dog could be taught to scratch backs, I would definitely get one.

There are many businesses where you can pay for a back rub. But I have never seen one where you can pay for a back scratch. If there were such a business, I would be a good customer.

A TERRIBLE THING TO A PERSON LIKE ME who craves back scratches is to be in the same room as someone who is getting one. It's almost painful to watch, because you start thinking of how good it feels, and then your back really, really starts to itch, and you can hardly stand it.

If I were as rich as Bill Gates, I would hire a full-time back scratcher. I would give the person other chores, too, because you need frequent breaks from back scratches so your mind can have time to crave another one. Part of the pleasure of a good back scratch is the anticipation of getting it. As far as the actual back scratch, the first 90 seconds are by far the best. This is when you get goose bumps. When you no longer get goose bumps, then a back scratch is still good but it's more of a relaxing thing than a stimulator of dopamine, the feel-good drug your body releases during great pleasure.

Now that I have written this, I really need a back scratch. If you like back scratches, then you probably do, too. Sorry about that.

So what do you prefer? A back scratch or a back rub?

RVing without a schedule means freedom

I wrote last week in my RVtravel.com newsletter about a rude letter I'd received from a reader about my essay two issues before. The essay was about two mediocre RV parks where I had stayed.

And, again, I received letters. Many people told me I could avoid crummy RV parks by simply using the Trailer Life or Woodall's directories to find a park along my route with a good rating, and make a reservation.

Well, the fact is, my style of traveling does not usually mesh well with planning ahead. I don't like making reservations. And I see no need for them in the off-season when most RV parks are wide open.

So, when it's time to call it a day, I rely on billboards and what I observe alongside the highway: if I spot a park that looks good, I pull in. Sometimes they are fine, sometimes they are lousy. But, frankly, I don't care very much. Because I earn my living writing about RVing, it's good for me to see the good and the bad and the ugly. I'm talking only about overnight stops here, not places for extended stays (where I would definitely consult a directory, plan ahead and make a reservation).

SOME RVers LIVE BY THEIR SCHEDULES. They have their travel days all planned before they set out. I don't: I like to stop a lot. If I pull into a small town cafe and meet somebody interesting, I may stay and chat for an hour or two. Heck, I've had people ask me to stay in their homes or park in their driveways. Some of my most memorable RVing experiences have come from those encounters. If I come across a great museum, I might spend an afternoon there. If it's a gorgeous day, I might pause in a city park for hours to read or write at a picnic table or take a nap. Only rarely am I in a hurry to get somewhere. For me, RV travel is almost always about the journey and not the destination.

Without a reservation set in stone, I can linger as long as I want in a place without having to look at my watch and say, "Oh, gotta go. I'm due at the RV park 100 miles up the road in two hours." I love RVing because I can travel at my own pace; I can turn left when the road looks more interesting than turning right. My "motel room" is with me. If worse comes to worse when darkness comes I can pull into a parking lot or rest area for the night. But put me on a schedule where I have to show up at a certain place at the end of the day, and I'd just as soon drive a car and stay in a motel, where I can show up at midnight.

Now, just to clarify. I DO make reservations in the tourist season, but usually only when I plan to stay for more than a day or two. And, for the record, in the tourist season, I'll take a state park or national forest campground over an RV park almost anytime.

Davy Crockett, dead again at 85

My hero Fess Parker died today at age 85. Back in the 1950s, Parker was television's Davy Crockett to millions and millions of youngsters, me included. The first installment of "Davy Crockett," with Buddy Ebsen as Parker's sidekick, debuted in December, 1954 as part of the "Disneyland" TV show. I am pretty sure I was watching.

Parker, as Crockett, was handsome, brave and definitively cool. He was what an American should be -- a genuine good guy. He was a tall man, 6 foot 6 inches, and he spoke with a slow, smooth, southern drawl that I can still hear in my head.

He made coonskin caps famous. I had one. All my buddies had one. Heck, every kid had one. I had a Davy Crockett lunch pail, too.

I'll never forget how sad I was when Fess Parker's Davy Crockett died at the Alamo. Fess Parker put the Alamo on the map.

And now my hero Fess Parker is really dead, not TV dead. All my childhood TV idols are gone -- Hoppy, Roy Rogers, Gene Autry and the Lone Ranger. Those guys should never have died. They were too big, too strong, too brave, too famous. . . too "everything."

Reality strikes again, and I am sad.

Motorhome is a dinosaur

Wow! How long is this Bounder motorhome? My guess is 38 feet, but it looks longer. Could it be 40 feet? I spotted it in a Sacramento RV park while talking my evening walk. The motorhome has no slideouts. Who would want such a motorhome anymore? You wonder why it took so long for RV manufacturers to make slideouts -- so RVs could be wider at the push of a button rather than just longer and longer and longer. Can it be that hard to make a slideout?

Did anybody even think about making a slideout 20 years ago? If not, why not? Nowadays, RV makers don't keep making RVs longer and longer, they just keep adding slideouts. Five slideouts is no big deal. I bet you will see six before long. This Bounder motorhome with no slideouts is a dinosaur. My guess is that a super long motorhome like this with no slideouts worth a pittance. What do you think?

Monster centipedes along the highway

What does this look like to you? To me it looks like a long centipede. Or maybe some kind of monster. These huge sprinklers are everywhere in farm country.

An RV campsite too good to be true

I'd really liked to be camped here. This photo appears in an ad promoting RVing by the Recreation Vehicle Industry Association. I believe that in my life I have camped in at least 2,000 campgrounds. Most were non-descript RV parks. Some were in National Parks and National Forests, and pretty. Others were in the middle of nowhere -- sort of like in this photo, but not nearly as super spectacular.

I don't think I have ever found a campsite as gorgeous as the one in this ad. For one thing, I don't see a road anywhere. So how the heck did the RV get in? And, as an ex-fire fighter (long ago) I can tell you that the ranger might not be happy about the blazing campfire surrounded by high and probably dry grass.

I wish there were a lot of beautiful, remote places like this to camp that didn't require having your RV dropped in by a helicopter. But I suppose showing a scene like is better for selling RVs than showing a cramped RV park, which is an all-too-common sight.