The Boys Go Camping in 100-Degree Heat

The Fourth of July is going to be a little different this year now that we have the RV.

One of my hobbies—other than camping, buying things for the RV, fixing things in the RV, and occasionally forgetting things that belong in the RV—is flying radio-controlled airplanes.

Mrs. Weeble and I worked out an arrangement years ago. I will do whatever she wants to do on Saturday, and Sunday is normally my flying day.

It is a fair agreement.

At least that is what I have been told.

When I first got into the hobby and was learning to fly, I lived in Stewartstown, Pennsylvania, just across the Maryland state line. For those who are unfamiliar with the area, Stewartstown is one of those places where you can be in Pennsylvania but still feel as though you should be paying Maryland taxes.

I joined an RC club near York, Pennsylvania, and that is where I learned to fly.

When I eventually moved back to Maryland, I continued driving to York to fly with the same club. People occasionally ask why I drive so far when there are probably other flying fields closer to home.

My standard response is simple:

“Where else can I go and be verbally abused in such a unique and personalized manner?”

It is the people who make a club, and we have a very good group. We insult one another with affection, help each other when something goes wrong, and gather around whenever someone is trying to start an engine that clearly has no intention of cooperating.

Every Fourth of July, the club normally has a long flying weekend. That means I receive special dispensation from Mrs. Weeble to fly for the entire weekend.

In previous years, I would drive to the field in the morning, stay all day, drive home that night, and then turn around and do it again the next morning.

Mrs. Weeble has been telling me for years that I should just stay at the field. She does not like me making the drive home late at night, especially when I am tired after spending the entire day outside.

This year, I can finally grant her wish.

We bought an RV.

Sometimes marriage is about listening carefully to your spouse, even when it takes several years and the purchase of a motorhome to follow her advice.

I had been watching the weather forecast for nearly a week.

At first, the temperatures looked reasonable.

Then they started climbing.

And climbing.

And climbing some more.

I have what I call my 50/95 Rule. I generally do not fly when the temperature is below 50 degrees or above 95 degrees.

Naturally, the forecast for the Fourth of July weekend was calling for temperatures over 100 degrees.

Apparently, Mother Nature had looked at my rule and taken it as a personal challenge.

I had been planning to camp at the field for nearly a month. When I saw the forecast, I decided I was still going. I might not do much flying during the hottest part of the day, but I could retreat to the Weeblemobile’s air-conditioned comfort.

Normally, I would not have that option.

I have experienced heat exhaustion before, which is one reason I created the 50/95 Rule. I know how quickly the heat can sneak up on you, and once you have had a problem with it, you learn not to treat 100-degree weather as merely “a little warm.”

My plan was to stay inside during the hottest part of the day and do most of my flying in the evening. I have several airplanes equipped with lights, so I can fly them after the sun goes down and the temperature becomes slightly less ridiculous.

Camping at the field would also give me a good opportunity to see how well the RV’s air conditioner handles extreme heat.

We eventually want to travel through the southwestern United States, and even during the fall, temperatures there can sometimes approach 100 degrees. This weekend could serve as a practical test.

A very hot, sweaty, possibly foolish practical test.

Fortunately, I have access to electric, water, and a sewer connection at the RC field. That gives me nearly all the comforts of home, with the added benefit of airplanes flying overhead and people questioning my landing technique.

I asked Mrs. Weeble whether she wanted to come with me.

She gave me a look that clearly said:

“You want me to leave our air-conditioned house and sit in a field during 100-degree heat?”

She declined.

Once Mrs. Weeble turned down the opportunity, I went looking for another volunteer.

I looked at my buddy Buster and asked whether he wanted to go camping with me.

He gave me a somewhat reluctant look, but when I opened the RV door, he hopped right in.

That settled it.

The boys were going camping.

We backed out of the driveway and headed north.

Naturally, we had traveled approximately a mile and a half when the first brain fart occurred.

I realized that I had left my water glass sitting on the table beside my chair at home.

I was not turning around for a water glass. We had coffee cups in the RV, plenty of bottled water, and enough assorted drinking containers to supply a small restaurant.

I decided we would survive.

We got onto Interstate 83, headed north, and traveled approximately one-quarter of a mile before traffic came to a complete stop.

There had been an accident about a mile and a half ahead of us, and traffic was struggling to get around it.

So there we sat.

Buster was in the shotgun seat.

I was behind the wheel.

Neither one of us was moving.

After about half an hour, we finally made it through the traffic jam and continued north. Buster and I were once again happy, slightly slap-happy, and enjoying our boys’ camping trip.

When we arrived at the RC field, it was right around 100 degrees outside.

Before leaving home, I had started the generator and run the RV air conditioner for approximately 45 minutes, hoping to cool things down before we hit the road.

To be honest, it did not make as much difference as I had hoped.

One air conditioner was trying to cool an entire motorhome that had been sitting in direct sunlight during 100-degree heat. That is a bit like trying to cool a blast furnace with a desk fan.

The air conditioning in the cab worked well, though, and the driver’s compartment remained reasonably comfortable while we were moving.

Once I pulled into the field and parked, I knew the first order of business was plugging into shore power.

I was hot.

Buster was panting up a storm.

Neither one of us was interested in a leisurely setup procedure.

I plugged in the electric, turned the air conditioner on full power, and then connected the water with minimal difficulty.

Considering my history with RV plumbing, “minimal difficulty” counts as a major victory.

With the air conditioner running, Buster and I settled in and waited for the Weeblemobile to cool down.

When dinnertime arrived, I grabbed Buster’s dry food and the little bit of wet food we mix with it.

Then came brain fart number two.

I had forgotten to put his food bowl in the RV, AGAIN.

Buster looked at me.

I looked at Buster.

The bag of food remained unconcerned.

Fortunately, we had paper plates large enough to handle the job. I put his dinner on one of those, and Buster did not seem bothered by the lack of formal dinnerware.

He is not what you would call a demanding restaurant customer.

Still, I immediately went to Amazon and ordered two bowls for the girls and another bowl for Buster. Those bowls will remain in the RV permanently, so we never have to worry about forgetting them again.

This is how an RV becomes fully stocked.

You forget something once, order a replacement, and declare that it shall now live permanently in the motorhome.

Buster ate his dinner, and I ate mine.

I am also happy to report that the air conditioner has slowly begun bringing the indoor temperature down.

I did not realize just how humid it was outside until I stepped out of the RV. Water was streaming from the air conditioner’s drain spout almost continuously.

Calling it a drip does not really describe it.

It looked more like Blackwater Falls coming off the roof.

The air conditioner was pulling an impressive amount of moisture from the air, which was reassuring because much of that moisture had previously been attached to me.

Buster and I have a wild evening planned.

I am going to work on this blog, and then I plan to write the weekly article for the RC club website.

We really know how to party in the Weeblemobile.

Tomorrow will be the true test.

The RV should cool down overnight, giving the air conditioner a fair chance to keep up as the outside temperature rises again. I am curious to see how well it performs throughout a full day of 100-degree heat.

I have a feeling the old Weeblemobile will be able to handle it.

We also hope there are no power outages in the area.

Should the electricity fail, I do have a generator.

But should the generator fail—or the heat simply become more than either Buster or I care to tolerate—I also have a reliable emergency backup plan.

It is called going home to Mrs. Weeble.