By Tracy Ruckman
The year 2019 is now in the record books and is one we’ll never forget because Tim and I spent 189 days tent-camping our way around the country. We left north Georgia on January 8 and headed southwest, hoping to escape winter, but instead found lots of rain and wind instead. We traveled down the Natchez Trace Parkway in Mississippi, through Louisiana, and then into Texas.
We’d purchased a used tent to start our trip (I’m frugal that way), but it proved a costly mistake. We purchased extra tent stakes, trusting the seller when he said the rainfly was included in the bundle. Because we were so busy packing up our house, we didn’t assemble the tent before we left. When we set up camp along the Natchez Trace, we discovered the rainfly was missing and had to make do with a tarp that was too small. We flooded out the first night we camped, and the rain dogged us for weeks.
One of our first camping spots in Texas was in the Lake Corpus Christi State Park, which was beautiful, even in the middle of winter. The rains finally stopped but the Texas winds were brutal, and the night before we left, destroyed our tent, snapping two tent poles in half and ripping one wall. We piled into the car that night and tossed the tent into the dumpster as we left the park. We car camped until we purchased another tent, and this time, we purchased a new one.
We set up the new tent for the first time in Granbury, Texas. We’d found a quiet city park that allowed free tent camping and made ourselves at home for a few days. But this new tent, dubbed “The Ritz” by my younger son, was very different from the first one in shape and materials. The metal poles formed a hexagon shape, providing us with much more room than the first tent, even though both were classified as 8-person tents. We followed the assembly instructions, but the wind was blowing as a storm moved in, so our efforts were comical.
A row of houses lined the back of the park, and we apparently kept all the residents entertained as we fought that tent. We’d get one side up as the other side fell back down, then we’d repeat the process from the other side. Laughter rang through the park, coming from all the neighbors watching us from their back porches as we worked.
The more the wind blew, the more frustrated we got, and the laughter sure didn’t help matters.
But then a car pulled up to our site. A retired gentleman climbed out of his car and called to us, asking if he could be of assistance. He introduced himself, pointed to his sweet wife who waved from one of those back porches and offered us a handful of tools if we needed them.
His small act of kindness erased our tension, frustration, and embarrassment, and immediately stopped the laughter from all the others who sat watching. As we explained the situation, we were finally able to laugh about the difficulties, too. We didn’t need the tools – Tim brought more tools than a hardware store needs – but we appreciated the gesture more than our new friend realized. That one small act of kindness created a precious memory for us and daily serves as a reminder that sometimes even the offer of help can make the world of difference.
Tracy Ruckman is an author, artist, and book publisher. Her book, Go West, His Momma Said, released January 8, details the first leg of the Ruckman’s tent-camping journey. The book is available on Amazon. Tracy’s artwork is available on FineArt America. She loves to connect, and invites you to follow her online:
Thanks for inviting me to your blog, Jennifer! I loved sharing this small act of kindness.
Acts of kindness mean so much. Thanks for sharing your story.