I back in very well. It’s simply a matter of taking it slowly, making minute adjustments, easing it in carefully. Oh, and mirrors generally enhance the experience.
I am, of course, talking about trailers.
Stu and I just got back from my family’s annual camping trip in Yosemite. Because he was coming off a grave shift the morning we left, I drove Stu’s huge Chevy truck. And pulled the trailer down 395, up Tioga pass and backed 'er right in to site 25.
This act, apparently, makes me as irresistibly sexy as Megan Fox draped across a motorcycle. Just call me Trailer-Barbie. Actually, scratch that: Trailer Barbie probably doesn’t have any teeth. How about Bad-Ass Camping Barbie? But with brown hair.
I’m not proclaiming my sexiness without lots of proof: I was hit on every time we stopped. The men hitting on me were invariably in their own huge trucks towing something. As I pulled into a parking lot, one or more of them would glance at my huge rig, do a double-take when they noticed me at the wheel and then saunter up, John Wayne style, and open the conversation, “So, what’s she weigh fully loaded?” “What’s the full weight that Chevy can handle?” “You pulling up Tioga in that rig?” “What kinda mileage you getting?”
When I answered these questions competently, interest would spark in their eyes and they’d lean a little closer. At this point, I generally found a way to work into the conversation that another thing fully loaded in the truck was Stu’s off-duty weapon. Bad call…a small woman driving a huge rig pulling a heavy trailer and talking about loaded weapons is, apparently, irresistible to the sort of men who frequent pull-thru gas stations. Ladies, if you are one of those women constantly bemoaning your inability to find guys in bars, the grocery store, etc., just come with me! I coulda had at least 3 marriage offers right there. And these men are good guys. They fish or hunt or boat or camp on the weekends and obviously have money; big trucks and trailers are not cheap. Nor is the price of gas or diesel required to keep those suckers moving. These men all obviously possess enviable disposable income, if somewhat questionable grooming habits.
Seriously, I got more attention in my ratty tank top and tennis shoes in a 395 parking lot than I did in my cleavage-enhancing dress and stilettos in a Vegas club.
I don't understand what all the fuss is about; towing a trailer while driving forward is fairly easy. One needs only to drive and look carefully before changing lanes. Although, Stuart may respectfully disagree about the ‘ease’ of my driving.
I would argue that I only got the trailer air-borne once. And it wasn’t my fault. Stupid road had a huge bump that I didn’t see. Stu awoke when his ass left the seat…and the trailer left gravity. All was well…the trailer landed and we continued on as if nothing had happened. Was just like Dukes of Hazard or something. Look at me: I could be a stunt-driver! And Stuart could be a saint: he made no comment, just squinted his eyes as he does when counting silently to a million in order to avoid yelling at me.
If simply pulling a trailer is a turn-on to men, a woman preparing to back in a trailer is like Super-Viagra. The moment I pulled into the campground, men congregated. I had my pick of the litter. Old men, young men. Fat men, short men, handsome men, scary men. I sent out my siren's call with the rumble of my truck's engine and they literally came out of the bushes.
Not all of this is because I’m a smokin’ hot female. Entertainment is hard to come by while camping. You can sit and stare at the campfire. You can sit and stare at the trees. You can climb a big mountain and stare at the view. You can scratch bug bites, eat oddly-prepared food, drink river-chilled alcohol and generally pretend to have skipped the last hundred thousand years of evolution.
Or you can watch people destroy very expensive property by backing it into trees.
Good times.
Trailer Parking is a Camping Event. Stories are told (back in my day, trailers weighed more than the stuff kids pull these days), legends are created (no one has ever successfully backed into site 35), heroes are made (Nate backed that 31' sucker in around two rocks and a tree, then un-hooked, came around the other way, and slid that baby home!)
The all-time greatest was when I watched a guy scrape off the entire side of his bigger-than-my-second-apartment, $200,000 bus/RV on a tree. Thing peeled off like a tin-can. My dad sauntered over and offered him ducktape to hold the now-dragging shiny side-panel up.We still tell that one around the campfire at night.
Thus, I was not surprised that the men came out of the trees to watch me back it in. When it comes to trailer backing, besides being entertaining, every man’s an expert. Doesn’t matter if, in his real life, he’s actually a CPA who has never backed up anything larger than his jump-drive, if a trailer is being backed in, he’ll have an opinion on how it should be done.
And if the driver of that trailer happens to have breasts, well, shit, jump-drive-boy could do it better, faster, cleaner. Because having a penis makes you an expert at jamming stuff into tight narrow areas.
Huh. My ass.
Seems to me, having a penis should disqualify you from ever being allowed to ‘jam stuff in’…any where. Just look at how men use their penises. With complete indiscretion and disregard for size, compatibility or favorable environmental conditions. When penis-wielders see an opening, they take it! It generally takes a great deal instruction and training by a patient woman for a man to realize that the penis should not always be used as a battering ram to breach any available opening.
This 'just jam it in' male philosophy applies to more than sex. Men do not worry about proper placement of furniture, they simply plop the couch or, worse, recliner down in front of the TV and call the room ‘arranged’. Socks are thrown into drawers, all laundry is jammed—regardless of color or delicacy—into the washer, expanding guts are stuffed into decades-old, sizes-too-small pants.
And these indelicate, unrefined creatures think they're more genetically gifted at easing a large, awkward object into an impossibly narrow space that is difficult to access?
I think being a woman instantly qualifies us to back up trailers. Having a vagina means being very aware of the necessity for proper alignment, minute adjustments, proper preparation. Women know how to examine size, shape and available insertion area in order to accommodate without damage.
We’re also adept at taking care of this without any helpful assistance from men.
Thus, I was mortally offended that my all-penis audience insisted upon offering advice as I prepared to slip my trailer into the designated slot. Especially as the advice generally indicated that the men all thought I was slightly less intelligent than the rock I was attempting to avoid. This group behaved in typical, group-of-men-at-sporting-event style: cheering, cursing, questioning the decisions and calls as if their sagging beer-gut-showing selves could do any better.
This seriously annoyed me. I don’t like other men being involved when I go into reverse. Call me traditional, but I prefer to keep such things within my marriage.
You can tell a lot about a couple’s relationship and sex life by observing their trailer-parking strategies.
Some men simply insist upon doing it alone, banishing their wives to the sidelines while they take care of business. I understand this. Alone, you have full responsibility for everything; placement, necessary adjustments and speed. And you get to decide when you’ve successfully arrived without worrying about any one else's feelings.
Some men have their wives help, but fail to explain what it is they want. Thus, the wives hover nervously, ineffectively waving their arms about and trying to look interested and involved while their husbands grunt and curse and mutter about not being understood. When the trailer is finally parked, this type of couple will typically spend the rest of the day mutually frustrated and not speaking to each other.
The best couples, like Stu and I, communicate very effectively. We’ve perfected our technique and built up trust so that each of us is comfortable. It’s like a perfectly-choreographed and well-rehearsed ballet. Most importantly, Stuart is man enough to let me take the driver’s seat. With his loving help, I can take in any size—even the big ones.
“Forward slowly, yes, yes, now to the right. Uh huh….now, back slowly. To the left, the left, little bit, oh yeah…now straight, straight, right…goooood…again now….yes…faster now, uh huh, now ease it in…almost there….almost….keep it up…and….YES YES YES!!! We’re in!!!!”
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