Once upon a time, my parents purchased a Hi-Lo camper. Just inside the door on the left near the floor was a switch that raised and lowered the top half of it.
Think of a tin can with wheels and a hitch on the front.
I don’t know the year of the camper, but it was well-used by 1997 when they purchased it. Long about 1998, my mother got a hankering to remodel all ten square feet of it.
As you entered the door, a dining room table that doubled as a bed was on the right. It had beautiful deep blue cushions.
On the left was a couch that doubled as a bed. There was an aisle between it and the kitchen while it was a couch. That aisle led to the back of the camper to a vinyl curtain that hid the toilet. When it was a bed, there was no aisle.
The kitchen had a sink, stove, fridge, and very little cabinet space.
My parents believed the kitchen was useless. And they were correct. Why use gas and electricity inside an air-conditioned camper when a first-rate fire pit is on the campsite? There’s nothing like cooking over a blazing fire pit in 115-degree heat with a fresh sunburn.
So they remodeled the Hi-Lo camper. They tore out the couch, kitchen, and toilet and replaced them with a plywood bed frame. Then they stuffed a poor queen mattress through the tiny Hi-Lo baby-bed-sized camper door.
The only original thing about the camper was the dining table bed, the door, some upper storage, and the fridge.
The whole point of this post is that the toilet was now gone. It no longer existed.
Who needs a toilet when you’re camping? There are trees outside. There’s a whole lake a few feet away. Back up to a tree, or go for a swim.
A toilet inside a camper is an ill-conceived use of space.
So when little Caleb was unexpectedly besieged with bladder issues later that year at Youth Camp whilst he was in the camper, there were very few choices. The bathrooms were miles away, or might as well have been.
He had a difficult decision to make.
But that’s another story for another time.
to the remodelers,
– Caleb
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