Well Alan and I are trying to dredge up our memories of the US again. After Galveston we drove on through Austin and headed off to Louisiana. We could have gone to the space stuff in Austin but it was late afternoon when we got there because we spent ages looking at the Galveston Oil Rig Museum.
We drove for ages and eventually pulled up at an RV camp on the side of the road and asked could we camp there. The camp was actually a community of road workers and their families living in 45 foot camper trailers and Winnebagos with all the mod cons. We were the only campers there. There were US flags at the front doors of nearly every trailer.
It was a warm and balmy night and we set up camp at the back of the RV park as far away from the large family gathering that was happening on the other side of the road. It initially sounded interesting because they had a band playing latin music. Then we noticed the singing. Visualise Uncle Fernando, playing his piano accordian and casstinettes hogging the karaoke machine and singing pissed and off key for hours and you have it.
We had just settled in and cooked our dinner when the sky got dark and brooding and it started to pour rain. Next thing the RV owner came over and told us that a gale force wind was on the way and would we mind spending the night in one of the vans. We gratefully accepted and while the van didn't blow away the rain came in in buckets, dripping on the bed, and floor etc. As it turned out the tent was intact the next morning, dry as a bone as we had coated it with water repellant from our stay in Galviston. The owners of the RV park refused to accept payment for our stay. They were like most of the American people we met, kind, helpful and generous.
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