Wally World!
It’s hard to believe but we’ve put 5,000 miles on the truck since our last oil change in Montgomery, Alabama. We needed to restock supplies, so we headed to Ellsworth, across the bridge back to the mainland, to the Super Wal*Mart. Since these stores sell just about anything you could need, plus they have an auto service center, I decided to try my luck to see if I could get them to do an oil change on my diesel Ford F-250.
Twenty minutes later we were in front of the Wal*Mart service center, and yes, they could do an oil change on my truck. Great I said, and while you’re at it, could you rotate and balance the tires as well? Sure. And how long will this take? Oh, about an hour. Perfect.
We left the truck and headed into the store armed with a shopping cart which we intended to completely fill up.
We bought everything from toilet paper to ice cream (the 100 calorie per serving type – you may remember that I have a fond weakness for ice cream). Marianne bought a $7 waterproof blue watch for kayaking, I bought a plastic bin with lid to store my papers so the dogs wouldn’t get into them again, as well as a brush to clean the truck and trailer in the event we ever get close enough to running water where it’s legal to wash your vehicle.
After an hour of shopping and perusing, I headed back to the auto service department, where they had only finished rotating and balancing the tires. They still needed to change the oil, but don’t worry, they said, that should only take about 20 minutes, and by the way, do you want us to check your air filter, too? Sure, why not.
It took them 20 minutes to figure out how to get the paper element out of the filter, and when they did, it didn’t look all that bad to me, but what the heck, it wouldn’t hurt since it’s probably due according to my recollection. It took another 15 minutes to get it in. And wouldn’t you know it, my truck doesn’t take a simple air filter, oh no, this thing is as big as a Volkswagen and costs $73. Ouch. Oh well, at least now it’s done.
All this time our groceries were starting to get warm, especially the ice cream. In the interest of food safety, I ate two of the ice cream bars.
It was going slower then everyone anticipated, so we decided to put our bag of frozen goodies back into the frozen foods department while we got a bite to eat. Now most Super Wal*Marts I’ve been to have a McDonald’s at least. Not this one.
This one had a Dunkin’ Donuts, which if you’ve ever been on the East Coast is never more than 100 steps from wherever you may be. I wasn’t too excited about having donuts for lunch, being a diabetic and all, and after having eaten those two ice creams bars. But now they serve lunch, including a ham and cheese sandwich. Great, I’ll have one of those. No, we’re out.
So Marianne and I settled for a chicken parmesan sandwich, which we got within a couple of minutes after it had been nuked in the microwave. Marianne wasn’t looking too good, the stress of waiting mixed with the restaurant choice, was wearing on her.After lunch, we retrieved our bag of frozen food from their freezer and headed back to the auto service department.
Bad news. They had run out of the synthetic Shell Rotella oil they were using to fill my truck. It’s somewhat understandable since the truck uses 15 quarts of oil. But why me, why now?
They had to run to the local NAPA store to pick up another 5 quarts of oil. And they now were feeling embarrassed and sorry for me, so they gave me a $20 discount, plus they gave me the rest of the oil they didn’t have to pour into the truck.
Three hours after we dropped it off, we were finally ready to head back to the trailer.
I was exhausted, so I proceeded to take a two hour nap.
When I woke up, I heard the distinct bell of an ice cream truck echoing throughout the campground. I’d never heard this sound in a campground before. And I never did see an ice cream truck, but rather, a couple in a Ford station wagon. He was holding a bell out of his window and ringing it, yelling, “Pies, get your fresh baked pies…”
I’m a sucker for fresh baked pies harked at campgrounds, so I strolled over, and asked her what kind of pies she had. Apple, blueberry, strawberry/rhubarb. . . .
Strawberry/rhubarb? That was all I needed to hear. And after giving the lady $16 for a homebaked pie, I was all smiles. Along the way she told me that this was their 22nd year of doing this in the campground.
Let me see, $16 per pie, maybe starting out with 30 pies, that’s almost $500. Do that for the three month season and it’s over $40,000! That’s the business I want to be in. Make a note of that.
For dinner we had corn on the cob we picked up at Wal*Mart and for dessert we had some of the strawberry/rhubarb pie with whipped cream. Heaven. Now that’s camping.
After dinner I spent the evening with the Canadians next door and had a great time by their campfire getting to know them all better.
Before I knew it, it was time to hit the hay. Tomorrow is another day.
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