When we got home, Eddie called his friend Roger Gibson to see if he could put the fifth wheel hitch in his truck. Roger and Eddie put the ball in the back of the truck several years ago so we could pull the horse trailer.

Arrangements were made for us to be at his house at 9 am the next day. I was able to enjoy the day with Roger’s dear, sweet wife Denise. We used to ride the horses together and camp.

After an all day effort, the hitch was ready to go but it was too late for us to get to the camper and back before dark. The trip would have to be tomorrow.

Early the next morning, Ed and I climbed into the Ford and headed north to get the camper and bring her home. "Gypse" I called her.

We arrived but the owners were not there, however the keys and road card were inside just as he said he would do. He had parked it where it would be easy to hook up.

Since we were down a little narrow paved road, I suggested "Eddie, you pull it the three miles out to the other highway."

"We have to watch for tree limbs since it is so tall," Eddie cautioned.

We only met a couple of automobiles who were driven by people apparently familiar with the highway, because they found wide places to get partially off the road to allow the big camper adequate space to pass.

"I am concerned with the hill up here that is straight up and straight down, because there is not much room between the trailer and the tailgate of the truck," I cautioned. I am like my father who always looked for things that might cause harm so we could try to avoid it.

"You watch it. It will probably be all right," Eddie said as he eased up the hill.

"It’s touching," I warned but there wasn’t anything else to do except go on.

When we came to the usual highway, I urged, "Ed just take it on to the Interstate and I’ll take over. This road is good and you will not be traveling fast and there isn’t much traffic."

At the Interstate I took over the controls while I told myself, "Your Mother drove a school bus. You can do this."

And I did. It was not difficult at all and I kept up the usual speed of the highway. I was determined not to let Eddie push me to driving faster than I was comfortable with. But I was at about 60 mph and he was content and so was I.

"I would really like to go on to Poppy Mountain for the bluegrass festival even if we do only have one day left. It is the best day, even if it is the most expensive day. Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys are there tonight. I would really like to go."

"All right. If you want to we’ll go on down after stopping at the house for a little while," Eddie agreed.

When we got the 75 miles home, I washed the mattress pad, ran the sweeper and threw in the things we needed.

I called Poppy Mountain and asked, "Do you all have room for one more camper?"

"We’ll put you some where. Come on down," was the answer, which was all we needed to know.

"I didn’t get everything we needed, most likely. We have enough to make do and we will do better next time," I assured Ed while he added water into the tank.

We headed back down the narrow Route 10, pulled across onto I 64. I pulled her down the interstate with the traffic and truckers. I mostly just took care of my vehicle and let everybody else look after themselves. Down past Morehead, I got off at the Farmers exit. It was only about 12 miles to Poppy Mountain from that exit.

When I pulled into the campground, Eddie had a moment of disgust when I paid so much money for the one night. I knew that would happen, so I was prepared.

I was directed to drive on up to the top of the hill and somebody would guide me.

There is a sharp curve and a very steep hill, but I didn’t worry about it.

"Put it in low gear and go on up," Eddie advised.

"Do you mean second or first?" I asked, a little unsure about the automatic transmission F350.

"Put it in second before you pull out here. That way you have all the power you need and it won’t have to change gears," Ed said casually. "You really don’t have to worry. This truck can pull anything."

When I reached the top of the hill a man came over to the truck to guide us into the campground.

"Do you have anything with electric?" I said hopefully.

"Yes, I can get you electric and water both."

"You’re wonderful," I told him. I say this quite often when someone does a good job. I don’t believe that people hear that enough and I like to give the generous compliment. They can’t help but give a beaming thankful smile

About that time my cousin, Wynona Ross, jumped up to the truck, saying, "I see you got it."

I couldn’t believe she found us in all of this crowd the moment we arrived. I was so glad to see her, but I had to follow the guide.... right now!

"We have to keep up to go find the place to park. I’ll see you later," believing she had brought her new camper down for the night.

The golf cart started out the narrow one-lane, one-way road into the land of 5,000 campsites and a thousand ATV’s and 50,000 people. People were walking, standing and talking, ATV’s were driving here and there and parked half way on the road.

As we passed one man, he commented, "She’s driving the hell out of it."

That made me feel good about my driving. I wasn’t just doing adequate, I was driving the hell out of it! Don’t believe I ever heard that said about me before. Somehow that felt better than "You’re wonderful."

Wow. Mama would be proud. I continued on as people pushed ATV’s over and people kept talking as they got out of the way. Since the road was all one way, it wound up the hill and around the barn and crossed on out the road.

Eddie told me when we first began dating "You and your mother and Leona Ferguson are the best women drivers I ever saw." I had always treasured that casual comment, especially since it was coming from a top notch driver of big trucks and bulldozers.

When we arrived at the spot we were to camp, there were two porta potties, a smoking campfire and trucks parked in our spot.

The guide got out of the golf cart and asked the trucker to move the pickup.

I said, "It is time to turn this over to the pro." I put the truck in park and got out to let Eddie take the wheel. Eddie walked over and surveyed the area and returned to park the camper.

As Ed was pulling the camper up to turn and angle it into the spot, I told the guide, "If that camper can be put in there, Eddie can put it in."

The guide said, "I drove trucks over the road for 25 years. With my direction and his driving, we’ll get her in here."

A crowd gathered to watch as the camper was put between the toilets and the adjoining trailer. It had to be pulled up and adjusted to miss the hot campfire.

As Ed was parking it, a bystander told him, "I would have already knocked over both toilets and backed the camper over the hill."

When it was lined up so we could hook up the water and electric lines, the neighbor told me that the man who was camped there was killed yesterday on a golf cart.

The guide told us three spots were vacated this morning because the man was killed. He stopped on a hill to take a picture of the beautiful scenery and when he pulled out, it came back over on him and broke his neck!"

What a terrible, terrible thing to happen. But it had nothing to do with the camping spot and we settled in for our first night in the camper.

I had done it. Our first day of owning the camper and I had driven it 150 miles! I was going to be all right.

I could feel my Mama was proud of her little girl and she was smiling down at me 'cause I was driving the 'hell out of it.'