This wonderful Labor Day weekend was the 30th anniversary of my marriage to Mrs. Freeholder. We decided to join a few friends, haul the RV up to a nice campground and enjoy the weekend.
She wound up doing work for her teacher job and I went with Mountain Man on a jaunt to the Labor Day Flea Market and Gun Show in Hillsville, VA. No, I didn’t buy a gun, or even go into the show. When I have to walk a mile plus just to get to the venue, and then you tell me I can’t bring my loaded firearm inside (yes, I know, insurance) I get a little peeved. So we just wondered on down the street, looking at “stuff”. I did manage to restrain my purchases to a single vinyl record album.
By the time we got back to the vehicle, my feet were killing me. This isn’t the first time this has happened. I even know what it is-plantar fasciitis. At least the GP says so, given my symptoms, I have my doubts. Mrs. Freeholder says I need to consult her podiatrist (she has a nasty case of it). I’ve told her that I’d prefer to not accumulate Yet Another Specialist.
However, it does point out something that I have to consider, and that’s the preps that reside in my vehicles.
My normal practice has been to keep a week’s worth of food, in the way of lifeboat rations, plus clothing and shelter gear appropriate to the season, along with things like fire-making gear, first aid goods and the like in my vehicle. The concept has always been for me to make the roughly 35 mile trip home from my former places of employment. I figured 7 miles per day and 2 extra days for problems. It seemed like a very conservative plan.
Maybe when I was in my 30s or early 40s. Pushing 60, with bad feet, not so much. Yep. Prepping as we age has reared its ugly head (stinky feet?) again.
The good thing is that I don’t work 35 miles from home any longer. I’m usually pretty close by the house. But I do travel locally, and it’s not unusual to find myself 75 or so miles from home. I still have my gear, but having had these feet for some years now (this, as with so much, started to get bad in my 40s), I know that walking 75 miles in any reasonable amount of time isn’t a realistic expectation.
So what do you do? Staying home isn’t an option as far as I’m concerned. I could carry a bicycle, I guess. I mentioned a Honda Mini 70 and got some serious stink eye from Herself. I suppose she figures that I’d use it for other things. She’s right.
Not sure how I’ll address this one. It may just be that I’ll have to be aware of what’s going on and just not travel if things are hinky. It wouldn’t be the worst idea I’ve ever had.
