The Glastron

I fell in love with it from the moment I saw it. From its 2 tone sage and sand exterior to its extra large panoramic wraparound windshield, it was perfection.There was just something about these old things that drew me to them,like a moth to a flame.Its luxurious craftsmanship and beauty were definitely something to marvel at.
"What do you think" the old man asked lazily as we stood beside each other on his farm in rural eastern Ky.He shifted uneasily as I walked around the machine in complete awe of it.He was probably somewhere in his mid 70's,with an insatiable appetite for wheeling and dealing.After all he had been doing this a very long time.As he told me the story of how he had come to own this machine I couldn't help but notice the wrinkles around his eyes as they squinted in the east Kentucky sunlight.His hands revealed years of hard backbreaking labor,full of callouses and scars like so many men his age from this area.He had farmed all his life for a measly wage,just enough to keep his family fed and provide a roof over their heads."Tobacco picking sure aint easy" he said as we made small talk there in the tall grass by his barn. "I got lucky,got myself out of farming and started doing small machine repair.You know lawn mowers and stuff" He told me that he was probably the best small machine repair man he ever knew,and assured me he could fix anything that took gasoline.I didn't doubt him. His barn was somewhat of a graveyard for small machines.It was scattered with weed eaters,tractors,chainsaws,and so many mechanics tools that you were hard pressed to find an open path to walk through it.He insisted I take a look at every piece of equipment he had came across."Now this one here I got from ol Jim down the road there.He told me it wasn't worth a dime and that if I could fix it I could most certainly keep it." he carefully pointed to the old John Deere tractor sitting against the far wall. "I spent near 10 minutes trying to figure out what was wrong with that contraption. You aint gonna believe what was wrong with it." He had my attention,he had a certain charm about him that most old country folks have,I felt like I'd known him all my life."It didn't have any gas in it" with that statement his laughter roared across the barn thundering and echoing off of the tin walls. " Ol Jim was fit to be tied" After we had successfully examined and discussed every machine in his old barn he took out a beaten up old pouch of tobacco and placed a golf ball sized amount in his cheek and said "O.k. son are we ready to get down to buisness?" I certainly was more than ready,I had been salivating over the machine the whole time.After all its the only reason I was in Omers barn in the first place. "Do you know much about it Omer?" he spit in the floor of the barn,took a handkerchief out and wiped his brow. " I know a little bit about it son. Its a 1970 Glastron motor home.Near as I can figure they only made them for about 2 or 3 years.Id venture to say its a classic,they don't make them like this anymore. Its got a 318 V-8 under the hood.In my opinion that was a motor that didn't get the respect it deserved.Its built on a Dodge chassis and would you believe it has one of them roll cages welded to the frame?Like one of them race cars or something" I didn't let Omer know but I knew all too well what I was looking at.I had been looking for an old Glastron for years now.My obsession with the Glastron and really all motor homes built on Dodge chassis started with my father.He was a traveling salesman who sold automotive parts door to door,then eventually worked himself into a job with Chrysler selling trucks for a living.Back in those days car salesmen were a different breed.Prospecting for these men meant going door to door in neighborhoods trying to find leads.They were always looking for someone to sell to.They were the originators of the idea "always be closing".My father wasn't around much in those days. He was always out on the road meticulously searching for his next sale,and often times struggling to make ends meet. When he was home we always spent our time in the garage talking cars. He was a car enthusiast and loved anything that had a motor,but his true passion was motor homes. While he had never owned one he would always have me captivated with his tales of the great machines that were traveling up and down the roads of America built from the ground up on Dodge chassis.It was his dream to someday own one of these and travel the open road.But as the months turned into years my fathers dream of owning a motor home dwindled with the weight of the responsibilities of having a family.He took the road more and more as the years wore on,coming home ever so often to tell me about his experiences and to tell me stories of what our life in a motor home could be like.When I turned 25 and graduated from college I came home for the last time to see my father.He had grown old and grey and it hurt me to see a man with so many dreams, and such a vivid imagination content to just sit quietly on his front porch sipping a tall glass of tea and watching the world go by.The last time I would see him alive we talked about many things.We talked about life,the way things were when he was growing up. When the conversation came to his dream of traveling the road,touring America in a motor home,tears began to well up in his eyes and he told me how that ship had sailed. My father was a dreamer,one of a kind,and thankfully he passed that trait onto his only son.So as I stood there staring at a genuine 1970 Glastron I couldn't help but think of him.He would've loved it. "What do you have to have out of it Omer?" He hesitated a moment and kicked at the dirt with his worn out old cowboy boots. "Well son,I reckon we could work out a deal." I was starting to get the impression that Omer was having second thoughts. The dream of owning my own classic motor home was fading.Maybe I'd made a mistake.A task like restoring a motor home was tremendous anyway.My father may have been better off for not realizing his dream. Omer sat down on the bumper of the old camper crossed his arms and sat in total silence.After what seemed like an eternity Omer looked at me and said "What do you plan on doing with this old girl?" I explained to him how much it meant to me and how my father had always dreamed of owning one of these and traveling the roads with his young son beside him in the captains chair.I told him what an privilege it would be to be able to honor my fathers memory with the total restoration of the Glastron.When I had finished my best sales pitch for letting me purchase the vintage R.V, the corners of his mouth started to curve upwards forming a smile.He looked at me with a glow in his tired eyes. "Your father was a Glastron man?" "Yes sir" I replied. I wasn't sure where this was headed but I could feel his defenses crumbling and I was almost certain I had the old man convinced that I was worthy of this hidden gem. "Your father,he wasn't a car salesman was he?" I was shocked,how did this nice old country fellow know that my father was a car salesman. "Yes,in fact he was. How did you..." He pulled out the sloppy wad of tobacco from his mouth and threw it in the garbage bin beside the camper " Son,near about 20 years ago a man came knocking at my door,trying to sell me one of them Chrysler trucks.I didn't have much use for a truck and I told him so. He immediately turned his attention to this old camper here. He asked me if I would be interested in selling it to him.He told me it was a surprise for his young son,and that he dreamed about one day traveling with his boy,like a real father son duo. I couldn't bring myself to sell it to him.I regret it to this day.Seeing that man walk away with a tear in his eye,almost like a whooped pup.Now here I sit an old man with a second chance.Your Dad loved you very much near as I can figure. He offered me everything under the sun for this old thing.He even went as far as to offer me his life savings.Told me he'd go home right then and there and bring me back whatever I wanted.I was wrong for hanging on to this old relic.I reckon I don't have any use for it on this old farm.It just sits out here in the barn collecting dust.Son, I think I'm ready to make a deal."The tears were welling up in my eyes as I realized that my father had stood in this same barn 20 years before trying to persuade this old man into parting with this very same camper. He had meant it for me,and I was about to receive what he had meant to give me all those years ago. "What do you want for it Omer?" Omer slowly stood up holding his old creaky back with one hand and grabbing for my right hand with the other. " It was supposed to be a gift for you son,and near as I can figure it still is just twenty years late.
Omer helped me get the old thing started,and with his expertise it was easy. She purred beautifully and sounded strong for her age.I sat down in the drivers seat pulled the old gear shifter into drive and pulled the beauty out of its stable for the first time in years.As i waved goodbye to Omer somewhere in the distance I could hear my fathers voice saying "You did good son,you did good"

The Tale Of The Wolfman-As Told By Shawn Crump

It was a night much like tonight.The wind and rain were blowing hard against the tin of the nearby campers making an awful rapping noise.Against the advice of my wife I decided to venture out into the wild unknown that is Grayson Lake Campground in the midst of what some have called the biggest storm to ever hit the area. If only I had listened to her. After I had set up the camper,unloaded all my gear and checked the cleanliness of the bathhouse(because after all that's the most important part of a campground)I decided I would wait out the storm. The rain was still pouring down in buckets and the stinging wind felt like needles against my skin.I decided it would be my best option to wait out the great storm in the comforts of my camper.I locked the door up tight,opened a bag of chips and settled in for what I assumed would be a long night. Boy was I right. It was around 2 A.M. when I heard the first scream. It was shrill,almost animal like. I assumed it was a deer or some other wilderness creature that had just met its fate. Whatever it was it was definitely not something I wanted to see at 2 A.M. I tried to lay down and catch some sleep,because I knew I would need it.But the wind had died down and the rain had slacked off considerably.I decided I would make a glorious fire and sit and have a hobo pie or two.I gathered my firewood carefully from the bed of my truck and laid it all out neatly in a pile in the fire pit. A good fire is something I don't take for granted and I wanted this one to last me all the way up through dawn.I had downed three cans of Mt Dew while waiting for the storm to die down and I felt like I could chop down the whole forest if I needed to.I never really did react well to caffeine.After several attempts and two bottles of Coleman Lighter fluid I had myself a roaring fire. It was a warm blazing towering inferno and it was the best in all of the campground.Of course I was the only one staying there at the time but it was still pretty good.I was proud of this searing wonder and sat down in my camping chair to admire my handiwork.The wind had died down to an almost complete standstill and an almost eerie quiet crept over the campground.Everything was pitch black except for the area around my campsite,which I'm sure NASA astronauts were seeing from space.It was then that I heard the sound that I will never forget.It started out slow,almost at a whisper. hooooowwll.... then it progressively got louder until it was an almost unbearable screeching cry. HOOOOOWWWWWWWLLLLLL!!!!! After I checked my underpants,i decided I had to investigate.What could possibly make that terrible noise.As I walked towards the woods where it was coming from it got louder and louder until i was holding my ears just to bear it. What was it? I squinted hard into the night making my bifocles work overtime trying to catch a glimpse of just what was making this noise. Suddenly there was a scatter in the tall grass in front of me then it appeared.I had never seen anything like it in all my life.It had to be at least 7 foot tall and 300 pounds.It was covered in wispy curls of dark brown fur,matted all over a muscular body.It definitely was not human.Its head was that of a man,with a giant nappy beard covering its chin.The teeth were something out of a monster movie,glaring brightly against the night sky just waiting to chomp into my flesh. It was half man,half wolf,and half dog!!! It roared ferociously and charged at me with an unbelievable speed.I used the only defense mechanism I know how to use and turned around and ran for my life. As I was running I could feel the creatures hot,stinky breath against the back of my neck.Every hair on my body was standing at full attention.I knew I couldn't outrun such a great beast so as I approached the safety of the campground I dove headfirst into the bathhouse.Luckily the soft cushion of toilet water broke my fall as I landed head first in the handicap stall. I was terrified.That night i slept in the bathhouse,using only toilet paper and toilet seat covers for warmth.It was terrible.As morning hit and the sun began to glare upon the campground I finally convinced myself to leave that bathhouse. I went straight to the ranger station to tell them about the horrible creature that was loose in their woods.I considered the fact that they might think I was crazy,but then i realized most people do anyway so I might as well give it a try.I knocked on the door of the ranger station still terrified from my ordeal and still very much soaking wet from landing in the toilet.A friendly old man opened the door and greeted me with a smile.He said " Son, you look like you spent the night in a toilet." instead of indulging him I began to tell my story about the creature. "Sir there's a terrible creature in these woods!It chased me into the bathhouse,It was half man,half wolf,and half dog" He looked at me lovingly and said " Sir three halves cant make one whole,maybe it was just 1/4 dog. Could that be possible?" I told him that I guess it could have been as I was just trying to get away from it. The old man told me that there has been a longstanding legend at Grayson Lake about a creature that roams the woods at night looking for innocent campers to feast on. He had once been a camper himself. His parents had brought him to the campground when he was just a baby,But they lost him somewhere in the woods on a hike.The legend has it that the boy was discovered by wolves who raised him as thier own. As he grew up he began to take on the qualities of a wolf and seeked vengence for his parents act of leaving him on that cold stormy night. They say every dark and stormy night he patrols the edges of the campground looking for campers to take out his gruesome revenge.I left the old man,went back to my campsite and started packing up. I was leaving. So if youre ever at Grayson campground on a dark and stormy night,keep a close watch for he could be out there.Are you his next victim?

The Camping Trail

Are you a camper? Henry David Thoreau said "The fire is the main comfort of the camp, whether in summer or winter, and is about as ample at one season as at another. It is as well for cheerfulness as for warmth and dryness." This is the idea behind The Fireside. I have many warm memories of sitting beside the campfire with my dad swapping story after story well into the midnight hours.These were the times that shaped my childhood and molded memories that would last a lifetime.There's just something about a roaring fire that makes everything seem all right.All the problems of this world just seem to melt into the searing flames,producing the scent of crisp smoky wood.The stories told around campfires have become somewhat legendary and whether fictional or not, always have a way of captivating us.Do you remember a great story or a tall tale that was recited by the fire?Something that held your attention,keeping you on the edge of your seat until the very end? All of us as campers have heard a story that was etched into our memories forever.Maybe it was a tale about a ghostly creature that haunted the woods,or just a friendly story about your Grandpas first camping trip with his family,regardless of what it might have been they all have a way of effecting us and sometimes even teaching us lessons that we never forget.This will be a place for sharing.Camping stories were meant to be shared whether it be a funny experience you had on a certain trip,ghost stories,legends,or just campground lore it all has a place here.Feel free to email or send me any story you want to share I will be more than happy to post it and give you full credit for the tale.The other goal for this site besides sharing stories will be for campers to be able to network together,maybe even share a campsite one day.Camping is a brotherhood and we all have the great honor of watching out for each other.So this will also be a place for camping equipment reviews,recommendations,and campground suggestions.If camping is your thing,then this is the place for you.With all this in mind pull yourself up a seat,grab a stick for roasting a marshmallow or two and relax.Were campers that's what we do best.