This week instead of my usual inspirational and sexy post I thought I’d have a little fun.
I happen to be the proud owner of a 1978 Beaver. (No, I don’t mean that one. That one’s a 1972 and I’m not going to blog about it). The story of how I came to be the owner of a 1978 Beaver motorhome is an interesting journey. “The Beav,” as she’s affectionately known, used to belong to my friend Deb. Deb sold her to some friends a number of years ago, and when they were looking to sell her they asked Deb if she wanted to buy her back. Deb didn’t have space to store her and approached me and my husband about going halfsies. Of course we wanted to buy her, she’s The Beav. Deb’s kids and Jeff’s kids have spent countless summer days and nights camping in The Beav, and I couldn’t wait for my youngest boys to have the same wonderful experiences.
Fast forward a little and Deb and her new beau bought a new camper and my husband and I are now full owners of The Beav.
This blog is not about how great The Beav is (phenomenally great), this blog is about the hours of fun we’ve had making references to my Beaver, and how universal the care and jokes we make about The Beav apply to, well… the lady parts called a “beaver.” Let’s consider:
- My husband bought a cover for her because it’s important to protect your Beaver from the elements.
- My Beaver might get a little dirty, but she sure cleans up nice.
- As she gets older I notice that my Beaver leaks occasionally and could use a good buffing and some wax.
- When I bring my Beaver out people always take notice.
- I brought my Beaver to work one day to show my boss and he did not appreciate it.
- I’ve invited several people into my Beaver and my husband doesn’t mind at all, although it’s pretty darn cozy when you get more than a few people inside her.
- I helped a friend transport a lot of flowers for a wedding and she remarked how nice my Beaver smelled and how beautifully adorned she was. When we got to the wedding location and set up my Beaver was de-flowered.
- The batteries died and I asked a friend’s permission for her husband to jump my Beaver – it’s only polite.
- My Beaver has an owner’s manual. Jealous?
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Hours of joy. Seriously. And as I sit here writing this post from inside my Beaver, my boys playing outside and waiting for me to go swimming, I think how lucky I am to have her. My Beaver’s a one-of-a-kind, but there are others out there. The next time you see a Beaver go on up and ask if you can come inside. I’ve found Beaver owners can’t wait to show off their Beaver.
