Where’s Walter? No, Seriously.

by Rachel Gertz

Where's Walter? No really, where is he?

Our journey is complete.

Today, on this ordinary Monday of Mondays… we sold our Walter.

Our beloved Walter, our beacon of freedom and light. Walter, our dear and dearly loved Winnebago of over 12 000 miles.

A frontal of our beloved Walter in the staggering Red Wood forest
A look at the guts of our dearly beloved

In about a week, you’ll have new belly inhabitants. We can only hope they will be as green and as adventurous as we were, pulling out the stops along the borders of our great nation, diligently emptying your sewage tanks, bathing you in rainstorm after highway rainstorm, rocking you with Rock Band and hundreds of frying pan hot dogs —letting you sleep in the most luxurious Walmart parking lots. 

Waiting out the rainy days in Oregon playing Rock Band
Frying up sausages the only way they should be eaten. In the pan.

We can only hope you will take your new owners all over the back roads of America, thrumming your hot little engine, powering over the steepest of hills with nary a falter the way you did for us. That they will appreciate the Jack Rebney (Winnebago Man) picture hanging in your kitchen the same way that we did.

That they won’t notice that little scrape from that stop sign in Houston, or my pathetic attempt to tighten up your undercarriage with Goop, or that time you ripped up our friend, Luke’s, lawn because your fat ass couldn’t get over the curb.

Luke's astonishingly effective attempt at getting us up his LA driveway

Walter, this feels like a closed adoption. We’ll probably never see you again.

We sure loved you and we learned a ton about how a metal hunk like you ticks. Even when you quit for no understandable reason in Charlottetown PEI, and you had to be boosted by drug addicts. Then you literally drained us dry, so we had to sell you. And then we couldn’t sell you because you became practically worthless (in monetary value only, let me assure you).

And even today, because you are worth less, but cost more than a brand new RV in Montana, we still had to pay someone a pretty penny to take you off the RV lot and drive you home.

But, Walter, today we are telling you that you were the best hunk of metal we ever shared our lives with. You were just the best. Period.

Me. Loving life in Walter (well, in Montreal in Walter)

We sure had a good ride, didn’t we? 

(Pssst: When he’s safely out of ear shot I’ll totally fill you in on all the cost of buying, travelling in and selling an RV on a whim. I just don’t want to hurt his feelings. Just sayin: It’s as expensive as having a diesel gargling baby, but just as fun.)

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