In January of 2008, while wandering through our local RV dealership, my wife and I stumbled across a unique class of camper referred to as a Class B: essentially a long based van, modified with a fiberglass top to increase the interior headroom, and equipped with everything necessary for comfortable outdoor living. Such amenities included refrigerator, stove, microwave, bed, toilet, shower and a sink. My first thought upon entering the B was, “Cramped,” but we considered the unique advantages: it was small enough to park in our driveway, could be driven into some remote locations larger units might find inaccessible, was rated at a much higher fuel efficiency than other classes we had been considering, and it could – if conditions required – be used efficiently as a spare vehicle for every day use. So, with only a modicum of consternation, we laid our money down.
Our first trip in the camper – an Intervec Falcon – took us to Brown County State Park, in Indiana. The February weather ensured we pretty much had the campground to ourselves, with the exception of one grungy looking fellow who spent the evening sitting at his fire, staring at the chunk of wood on which he was forlornly chopping – for hours. Now, neither my wife nor I are aficionados of the horror movie genre, but even we were aware of the pervasive air of ‘foreshadowing’; the type which causes a savvy audience to yell, ” Get out of there, you idiot!” The audience knows one lone camper obsessing on his ax is a stark raving lunatic, but the [generally minor] characters in the movie are painfully clueless as to the probabilities…
We weren’t, however, about to let a specter of impending pain and doom interfere with our first night out, so we closed up the shades, locked the doors, made sure we had cell service and the ranger’s emergency number, then spent the night huddling in bed with cups of hot coffee in hand, waiting for the seemingly inevitable sound of an ax on sheet metal. Eventually, however, exhaustion overcame terror, and throughout the quiet night, as we slept, it snowed.
In the morning we woke to a wonderful vista of white: we couldn’t even recognize the campground as such, the layer of snow of being so thick. Better yet, our solitary neighbor must have moved on during the night, and the only sign of life was the small herd of deer which surrounded our camper, apparently oblivious to our presence inside, and their tracks in the snow which led out from the forest. It was there we coined the sobriquet we now now use for camper: the GyrFalcon, a graceful white creature which traverses the land, although most comfortable in the colder climes. We also realized we had made the perfect choice for our second home.