The large campers were interesting to see on the highways, and trying to make the driver bomp their horn was a traditional task. My aunt let us stay for about a month until Hurricane Rita came in the picture.

This was getting me use to living in these (sardine can, diet coke can) trailers. The bathrooms were tiny. One false step and you were near the lavatory.

September is a humid month. Especially when in a non-air-conditioned washateria, waiting on clothes and carrying a heavy load about 4 blocks up a dirt road. Magazines and supplies were laid out. The helpful old man was a camper over and worked and lived at the camp. The owner lives on the property with his wife and children.

Not to sound crude, but it was just a campground for campers on the side of the road. Not that driving from the highway onto a bumpy field with oak trees wasn't the highlight of my life, either. Most of the people there were all evacuees, and our story appeared in one of the local newspapers. Other than that, it was a pleasurable experience.