Beneath the Rattling Roof© Elsa Wolf

This short story is a version of one tale from my published book, Dream Tales and Other Short Stories.

Lucy and Joe’s thirty-foot camper loomed in their rearview mirror. It creaked, swayed and groaned in the wind as they headed over the mountains of Utah toward Wyoming on the curving switchback roads. Majestic peaks, dusted with snow, soared in the distance, their silhouettes jagged against a sky that alternated between brooding gray and brilliant blue. On one side of them was a twenty-foot drop-off to doom amongst rocks and shrubbery, where sparsely patched wildflowers also clung to life, splashing colors of purple and yellow against the rugged landscape. On the other side, towering ragged red- and sand-colored cliffs streaked with veins of ancient minerals hemmed the road.

Slowly, they moved forward. Thankfully, Lucy was not driving as her eyes often squeezed shut. Her heart pounded in overdrive. Outside, the wind shrieked like a banshee, tearing through the narrow canyons and whipping up eddies of dust that danced across the road. She took long deep breaths and attempted to imagine a calm countenance rather than a panicked one that could send her to an emergency room. There were no medical facilities of any kind in the mountains, few pull-offs and fewer people. Lucy didn’t have to concern herself with the altitude. She’d lived up at 7000 feet for several years and the thinner air no longer affected her.

At the top of a crest, they stopped for a break. The wind was howling at a rate that grabbed the truck door when Lucy opened it a crack, and then closed it with a herculean effort. She tried to steady her panic and go for a second round. She made it out onto the asphalt road and headed towards the camper. When she unlocked the door, the wind grabbed hold and banged it into the side wall. Lucy wondered if it would fly off and take her for a ride like Dorothy’s house in The Wizard of Oz. The thought was absurd, yet she could almost imagine such an event. Again, all her strength was required to pull the door shut behind her.

The table, once anchored to the floor, had roamed a few feet out of place. The interconnected recliner had slid across the carpet. A better look revealed a three-section unit instead of one. On a calmer day, Lucy decided she’d remove the middle section and change it into a friendlier loveseat to watch television, although the TV set, with its old black-and-white screen, did not work well even on a good day. They decided the amplifier with a DVD slot and the radio were broken. The warranty had run out. Upon reflection, they realized it hadn’t worked the day they bought the camper either; DOA. They didn’t watch shows too often in their house, even less on the road, except on sweltering evenings when they were exhausted. Outside, the wind continued its relentless assault, rattling the windows as if some restless spirit wanted to come inside.

Looking around more while the wind howled, Lucy saw the baby slide-locks had held most of the cabinet doors closed, except for one. On the floor were bowls, cups, and bananas. She focused on these things rather than the camper’s wind induced tremors. The smell of ripe bananas mixed with the faint, lingering scent of the coffee they’d brewed that morning created a strange, comforting aroma that grounded her in the midst of the chaos.

The bathroom was her goal. The struggles she’d encountered to get inside made her believe relieving herself by the side of the road might have been a better choice, except for the terrifying, howling wind. Once she reached her target, she sat and focused on the shower doors. They are convex and initially refused to stay on the manufactured tracks due to a defect in the rollers. Before their trip began, they’d ordered new parts twice. Each time, they were different and dysfunctional. Even during the peaceful drives, the doors fell off. Adding a bungee cord helped them stay somewhat upright during this climb. When she stood with effort, the wind rattled the camper again. It felt as though the entire structure would, at any moment, become suspended between heaven and earth. She grabbed the sink to steady herself; it worked fine. After the journey to and from the truck, she was eager to get out of the blustering mountain winds to a calmer place.

Miles down the road, the wind velocity diminished, and the camper stopped rattling and shaking. The panic she felt dissipated.

It never ceases to amaze Lucy when she thinks of the amenities their camper contains. Two propane fireplaces, a full kitchen and bathroom, and a television screen. The only thing missing was a barbecue grill, so they bought one. Upon opening an external compartment and stuffing it in, they soon noticed the floor of the camper was flooding. Initially, a mystery. They pulled the new grill out and discovered it was the culprit. It had turned on a faucet in the closet. The nozzle was sideways and missed the drain. Hence, the water flowed into the camper and across the floor.

This trip, this first long trip, living on the road for only three weeks, was a novel experience. From the first day to the last, Lucy and Joe continually adapted to living in a camper. When they parked for the night at a site and didn’t level the floor with jacks, the door wouldn’t close with a gentle touch. They had to slam it. The noise seemed to disturb them more than anyone else. Other campers had cats meowing and dogs barking. Still others had barbecues running, which filled the air with either the smell of charcoal or wood smoke mixed with an occasional whiff of grilled meat.

At some camping stops, they could only get 30-amp instead of 50-amp circuits, which affected their water heater and air-conditioning units. They could only run one or the other at a time. Funny, really, since decades ago Lucy and Joe had been satisfied with tents.

That night, after they made camp, they found a way to have an outdoor fire in an aluminum fire-pit instead of on the ground. The drafts under the flame were so good that there wasn’t any smoke swirling around chasing them as they’d encountered in the past.

As the sky darkened, and the first drops of rain spattered against the window, they moved inside.

The camper had all the comforts of home crunched into a box on wheels. No hotels to question their sanitation practices or adjust to a new bed every night. Cooking was easy and healthier than eating out every day. The COVID pandemic was beginning to recede. Their vaccinations were completed before their travels, although their worries remained. As Lucy and Joe sat in the camper that night, listening to the rain drum steadily on the roof, it felt like a small haven against the uncertainty that had gripped the world for the past year.

They had hauled the camper across the country to move to Wyoming a year before the world locked-down by degrees. Their adult children left countries abroad to return and hunker down with them in Wyoming. Each one came at different times and each one quarantined in the camper for two weeks before getting COVID tests to clear them to join their parent in the house. So, Lucy was thankful for their home on wheels. And now, as the future unfolds, they can travel with caution and see their country in the way they had intended for some of their adventures.

Copyright ©Elsa Wolf