Cappuccino, Edelbitter Excellence and Piesporter Goldtroepfchen Riesling Spaetlese 2004

I have not really mentioned cooking so far. The tramp, having spent much of his life on the road living in hotels and eating in restaurants, would be very happy never to eat in a restaurant again. The trampess, while always having enjoyed cooking, nonetheless enjoys the odd (well perhaps more than the odd) meal at Tom Aikens or similar. The WLW while as I have said luxurious for its type is not a patch on the home kitchen. The Dometic (the absence of the s already gives a hint that it is not quite complete) would be embarrassed to be in the same room as the Viking (again the names says everything – this is a cooking machine to feed the starving millions and well). Of course, the tramp understands this, but even so he is used to a certain standard and the lack of firepower should not stand in the way. While he had no choice on the fitting out of the kitchen, he did leave the rest to your trampess (before I arrived the hob had not been used – the tramp existed on the stone age diet of nuts, fruit and salads – with the odd kneckerbrot for ballast – as the Germans so appositely refer to fibre).

First principles must be followed especially in cases of diminished capacity. Your trampess sought out the best cooking shop in Koblenz and dressed in her most obviously (and unattractively) tramping gear promptly bought a limited but exceedingly high quality set of cooking pots. It pays to surprise the natives. I was showered with little stickies and a book in which to collect them as well as a form to fill in to allow for extra discounts. This enabled the tramp to get a man sized set of serving tongs for practically nothing. While it always pays to have good pots, believe me, on an inferior hob it makes a huge difference – especially in the washing up – another little gift from me to the tramp (I like him to know that I am thinking of him when I make what to the untrained eye is an extravagant purchase).

The challenge is of course to find raw materials worthy of the pots. All of my friends told me how lovely it would be to visit villages with markets selling local, fresh produce. True. Of course you have to be in the village on market day, you can only pay in cash, and, if the truth be told not all the produce is in fact local – though no one goes to great trouble to write in large letters – from Spain – on the tomatoes. So it was a blessing to find the beloved Edeka – once you recognise the big E (the whole name is not spelled out on the masthead that can be seen from the road) on what appears to be a warehouse (German marketing is not quite up there expect for maybe cars), you are in a food emporium which approximates Whole Foods. Not perfection, but worthy. Fresh vegetables and fresh fruit in reasonable abundance. Fresh fish and fresh meat (organic even) and a decent cheese counter. Many, many aisles of superfluous packaged goods but those are easily overlooked. Imagine, as we were driving along the Saar, your trampess spotted a big E off of a small roundabout (these small roundabouts are a treat – the tramp’s driving skills are so clear when one realises that the WLW with the trailer take up nearly half the roundabout) – the tramp made one of the fastest exits ever. He knew fish would be on the menu if we made a stop, so stop we did.

Three small burners (and one smaller than the other two) with less than ideal maximum heat present a challenge even with superior pots. Browning requires patience and new techniques. I have made stews successfully browning the meat first on the hob and then cooking in the very small oven but so far have not tried roasting - and with limited space for leftovers it seems an extravagant use of the oven – assuming that a chicken would even fit! (Besides it could take several hours to roast a even a small bird and one cannot feel entirely comfortable about leaving the oven on and going for a long walk when said long walk might take an hour longer than one thought – at the same time hanging around the WLW seems a waste of the countryside one came to visit). So all in all, I have arrived at a repertoire of simpler dishes preferably cooked in layers (mange tout added at the last minute to chicken sautéed in ginger, garlic, and chilli for example, worked extremely well) are both tasty and generate less washing up. You will remember the dis-balance between fresh water and grey water – the problem is not getting better – the more I cook, the worse it gets. The tramp has reached the point of saying that we will have to surreptitiously let off grey water whenever possible. The alternative is too grim – he cannot face returning to a pre-trampess diet.

Lest you think that we have arrived at a high level of cuisine, I must aver, but it is tolerable and certainly better than the local eateries (heavy on breading, bratwurst and kartoffel). In the end, I must also say that a wonderful coffee and a small piece of edelbitter chocolate (I am becoming the world’s expert on plain, perfect, simple, dark chocolate bars which I buy in quantity) taken while sitting on a very comfortable chair only feet away from a gap in the trees and the Mosel within toe distance, at the end of a even the simplest lunch can make one feel very content with the world and indeed willing to set out on one of those well marked 4 hour walks uphill. In the evening, with the sun setting behind the tramp and a glass of Piesporter Goldtroepfchen in my hand (a wine the tramp’s father used to drink at night after dinner – and tracked down in Peisport – very satisfying),after a simple salad with bit of cheese and possibly, just possibly followed by Stippmilch with a modified Rotegrueze (the number of opportunites to buy berries has been limited), is remembered fondly as a perfect summer supper. It is, in the end, the little touches that count.

Cabin Fever (cont.)

I was so carried away with technical problems last time, that I failed to touch on cabin fever. As you can imagine, when one step down takes you from the bedroom to the bathroom and another step forward takes you to the kitchen and one more step forward and you are in the dining room/living room, it does not take a genius to figure out that as comfortable and as well-equipped as those rooms are, they do not give, even an average English or American woman a sense of Lebensraum. If the same space is also your mode of traveling , albeit one more step forward, there is a need at a certain point to stretch the legs and MOVE. Panoramic views from the cockpit are not enough. One cannot live by view alone.

Happily the Germans are a nation of walkers, cyclists, and even runners. The walking element was of course one of the reasons Mark Twain chose Germany in which to become a tramp. The other reasons were his desire to study art (and to learn to paint) and to learn the German language (for the first and the last he could , of course, have also chosen Switzerland or Austria), though some purists might dispute the thought of learning to speak German in Switzerland; Your trampess aspired to much the same on her first excursion around Germany with the tramp in 1972 (in fact the tramp has such fond memories of the trip that our WLW sports a licence plate with the number 7208 – to signify the first trip and the current one). Like The Tramp, I respectfully await the Germans to accept the 8 modifications he respectfully suggested to their language to make it easier on themselves and to make it possible for a foreigner to learn within a lifetime (which even after 100 years they have failed to recognise as sensible – although my tramp, to his credit, totally agreed with them after he recovered from a mild heart attack brought on by severe laughter following his reading of The Tramp’s chapter on the Awful German Language. But then the tramp always prefers to speak English as it is a “clearly superior language” – only a German could make such a logical statement. Perhaps one day, all Germans, compelled by logic, will follow the tramp’s lead, thus obviating the necessity to adopt The Tramp’s helpful suggestions). In the meantime, I do the best I can with a combination of international words and some from Wagner -- how else would I know how to say, “My Hero” to the geek at Media Markt? No doubt The Tramp was hampered in his ability to learn German because he hated Wagner, having dutifully sat through Lohengrin for a mere 4 hours without a moment’s pleasure.

But I digress. The countryside is magnificent and there is nothing like a 10km run through beautiful fields to restore the body and the mind. The small problem of thinking (erroneously) that I was on a track that would take me around town back to where I started was discovered before I was committed to a half marathon (there are only so many allowable paths when one is in the midst of asparagus fields). No doubt the natives thought I was a little crazy – most women my age are on bicycles dressed as mature women should be. I was, of course, in my Nike running gear (winter length – slightly out of place now that it is no longer snowing), i-pod tracking my distance and pace as well as providing the necessary incentive by way of hard hitting rock provided by number three son. After dinner, the tramp and I went on a long walk in a different direction. “Connecting to the earth,” he said, “That’s what this trip is all about.”

Technical competence, globalisation (again) and cabin fever

Survival in a small, mobile space (even if it is larger and more luxurious than most small spaces) requires technical, mental and physical skills that are surplus to requirements in a normal, roots-firmly-planted-in-the-ground house. I would not claim more than one of those skills and some might not even give me that. As you know, the tramp feels that there are so many new skills to conquer, it is important to divide them between us. It will not surprise you to know, that having allocated AV and navigation systems to me, he has also allocated computers. Now, that may not sound too bad (though frankly, to me, it sounded horrific – I always allocate computers and technology in general, to the boys – the younger the better) since I am tolerably competent in using my desktop computer, but let me tell you that being mobile, especially across several countries is a lot harder than , well to be honest, I can’t think of anything harder at the moment except maybe re-inventing calculus. This is compounded, of course, by the fact that my computer is not only a Mac but an Airbook. Vodafone Germany admired it, marvelled at it, but couldn’t figure out how to upload the date in order to be able to use the cute little stick that enables one to capture the internet from the ether no matter where one is. This is partly because there is no room in an Airbook for a CD rom. Well, it is possible, of course, to attach a box (via the one port on an Airbook) which does has space for a CD rom.

Unfortunately, when I got back to the WLW to look into my computer bag for the magic box, the bag was nowhere to be found. It seems that in his culling of useless bags, boxes and other things taking up too much space, the tramp cast off my bag. I won’t mention what other priceless items were in there, the good news is that my i-pod connector had already been transferred to the technical compartment of the WLW. The bad news was, obviously, that I did not have the means to upload a CD. Those of you cleverer than I will have instantly thought of transferring the CD to a stick and importing the data that way. Of the non-simplicity of life! It didn’t work. My Airbook positively rejected the data (it seems Macs and PCs are a bit like Rhesus negative – a complete transfusion is required before the data sits happily in the Mac). By now, believe it or not, it was the end of the day and I returned to the WLW a dejected woman. I had managed to buy a contract (I won’t even mention that this required a German address which I don’t have but convincingly made up, and a bank account which I do) for unlimited air time but was unable to use it!

I decided the next morning, fuelled with porridge and a determination not to be defeated, to go to Media Markt with my Airbook and all my Vodafone discs and sticks and see what I could come up with. Dear Reader, Media Markt is not my natural habitat. I avoid such places. Give me Marks & Spencers Food Halls, or Giorgio Armani and I can create a dinner and be dressed for it in no time, but Media Markt??? I found my way, again, to the computer section and saw another woman of a certain age discussing her computer problem with a jolly computer geek. I waited. Other people came and went; I stood patiently (if you don’t speak the language well, patience is the only thing that gets you anywhere). Eventually it was my turn. I held my Airbook, the stick, the CD and explained as best I could my problem. The wonderful thing about geeks is they love a challenge. He loved my Airbook; he knew instantly that the not-geek-enough geeks at Vodafone didn’t understand Rhesus negative, but he did! And he had a magic machine to perform the transfusion. Hurrah! It worked! He uploaded the data onto my Airbook and I was once again connected to the world. All was well and I hoped that my day was over as far as computers were concerned. I won’t bore you with the fact that the tramp has an older model because it has a programme that he loves and that won’t work on later models and so I had to go through the whole process again, or with the fact that when I got back to the WLW and plugged in, my mouse wouldn’t work – it was in semi-death mode – no move and then a sudden spasm in a totally random direction, nor will I mention that when I went back to Media Markt (now rapidly overtaking M&S and Armani for feel good shopping) the mouse instantly worked for my now favourite geek. What I will tell you is, that just before buying a plug in mouse, it came to me – the inverter (you cannot have forgotten the inverter!) was causing the electrical impulses to be sent in a non-continuous way!! My geek agreed. I can only tell you that champagne and sardines never tasted so good as they did that night.

Oh yes, and the final prize is that instead of having to have an address and contract in every country that we are to visit (as the first not very impressive Vodafone geek suggested) I only need one. In the other countries I can go into wander mode and still get the local tariff. This probably means that I should have used my UK contract to begin with. But I am not complaining as what I have works, and Dear Reader, that is everything.

Cleanliness, Godliness, the Art of Mindful Vacuuming, and Glucosamine

Dear Reader, you may now be wondering if the wandering will ever begin. For this I hardly blame you, in fact I wonder it myself. But many things are not what they seem or even what they sound like. The blitzkrieg was not about speed but about co-ordination. (when you think about it, no one thinks of the Germans as speedy – motorways and Michael Schumacher excepted – but certainly one thinks of them as exhaustively prepared). Today was therefore a day of exhaustive preparation. And because co-ordination is everything, the tramp deemed that he would do the messy, manly work of dealing with filling and emptying the various coloured water tanks and leave me with his normal task of vacuuming. The WLW was to be totally clean , filled with fresh water and ready to go forth into the world.

Now the tasks of vacuuming would seem a small one (especially compared with filling a 280 liter tank in increments of water purchased with a 50 cent piece) but I tell you it was not what it seemed. To begin with, the trampess had to find the vacuum cleaner by lifting the carpet in the dining room and then lifting the floor boards – where else would you keep a vacuum cleaner??? Now assembling a small, compact machine is not beyond my wits, even with the choice of attachments (yes, even in a WLW, one wants the option of carpet, floor and upholstery appropriate nozzles). What did seem strange though was why there was only one metal tube, and why it didn’t fit the carpet attachment. An engineer at heart, I sat on the floor studying the various attachments and the various tubes or hose they could attach to and came to a startling conclusion. A tube was missing, the effect of which was that only one combination of existing parts would function. The trampess would have to consider everything upholstery. Not a major problem, what really is the difference between a light carpet and a sofa or tapestry? Of course, the fact that one tube was missing meant that the vacuuming would not be done in the upright position but on my knees (I can only imagine if Mrs Doubtfire had been faced with the same problem!). With cleanliness allegedly next to Godliness one could only surmise that the proximity would improve if the vacuuming were done on my knees. Now even a WLW is small by comparison with a real home, so the thought of doing the whole WLW on my knees was not particularly daunting (elapsed time is probably less than during high mass on Sunday so well within my capability). What I was not prepared for was the strength of the suction. I was now on all fours, holding the carpet down with one hand, pulling with all my strength and attention with the other and hoping that my knees were strong enough for the fight. No one has put so much mental effort into lifting a few crumbs and stones from such a small space. This was mindful vacuuming. It also occurred to me that the glucosamine that I had run out of only a few days before, would need to be replaced if my knees were to keep the elasticity needed to resume running – a necessity in the land of kaffee and kuchen – especially with the visits been planned in the coming week. Happily in the land of Gesundheit, this was easy.

Water, water everywhere

Life is full of paradoxes and man’s task on earth is to resolve as many as possible. Of course, the sooner one is solved one, the faster another hits. Civilisation conspires to remove problems and make everyday living as smooth as possible. In doing so, it reduces one’s awareness of problems that have been solved. This is good until one breaks from that protective cover. Returning to a simpler life, one finds oneself returning to simple problems one didn’t know existed. Take for example water from a tap, or used water going down a drain, or . . . well you get the idea. The closer civilisation has come to connecting us to a perfect and continuous supply of water – and its removal - the less aware we are – both of how it all happens (magic) and how much we use (lots). Living in London, the closest I come to understanding how much I use is the quarterly bill – and all that tells me is how much I have to pay, which may or may not bear any connection to the amount I use since we have no meter. Living like a turtle, but with water and power tanks attached (including, dare I mention it, waste water tanks attached), requires both cognisance and action. Press a little button right over the door and instantly, your trampess can see how full her three water tanks (fresh, grey and brown) are. It is not random interest that drives her or the tramp to press the button since washing one’s hands, making a cup of coffee, or even using the loo, depend on having adequate water in the fresh tank. One dares not think what happens if the other tanks reach overflow!

After careful study of the levels over a relatively short time, the tramp has concluded that we are washing too many dishes. (the tramp by the way is back in his former job of dishwasher since the trampess does the cooking and there are no baby tramps around to do that chore, but I am sure this is irrelevant information and there was no need to mention it). Being systematic, he began by doing a study of breakfast. The first conclusion was that we really were eating as though we were in normal domestic circumstances: porridge, eggs, ryevita, fruit, tea, cappuccino , I mean, does one need so much, so many plates, so much washing up?? My suggestion that porridge would be good for him and was so practical on so many levels - several months supply can be stored (in the garage – the turtle’s shell does of course have a garage) - whereas eggs require weekly purchase and take up refrigerator space - met with as much enthusiasm as I expected. Not you understand, that I mind making eggs for him, and the water I boil the eggs in is then used to soak the porridge pot and then the (egg) pot is re-used to boil the milk for my cappuccino. So it is used twice and only washed once (not to mention providing the washing water for the other pot). One could scarcely imagine a more efficient use of pots and water.

The reason for such scrutiny is obvious: one has to take responsibility for refilling the fresh water tank and emptying the others. You may have noticed how many roadside stops are offered on motorways for refilling fresh and dumping waste water – not a lot, right? So one needs to think about these things. In a perfect world, all three tanks would empty and fill at such a rate that one could make one stop to deal with all three tanks. We are far from paradise in this respect and I fear (though I have not dared mention to the tramp) that we will shortly (as soon as I lift myself from my death bed) slip further down the rungs of hell. My recovery will include a return to running – and showering. If the dishes produce excessive amounts of grey water one can only imagine what a shampoos and shower will do! I fear the tramp may revert to Napoleon’s command to Josephine not to bathe as he was on his way home! Clandestine bathing and lavish spraying of Chanel 5 (strategically purchased at the airport on the last exit) will have to see me through.

I expect to be on the road again soon (we just have to make sure that the door works – while I was dying and the tramp went out he asked me to lock the door. When he returned he could not open it from the outside, but rather more worryingly, I could not open it from the inside even after unlocking it manually. No need to trouble yourselves about this, but I spent the afternoon in bed, inside the factory, while my door was changed) , God willing. Do you think she is?

Converters, Inverters, Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

The turtle leads a simple and uncomplicated life; his shell protects him and he has relatively little to do to maintain it. To him, it is just a hard, helpful, second skin. The WLW is not remotely so low maintenance, though it does aspire to provide the same protection – and more. The modern tramp wants to take his world with him: music, satellite, telephones, computers (the desire for the simple life can be too simple after all and one does not wish to be cut off from friends, culture or news). Indeed, the WLW makers know this and have photos of interiors not just with beautiful bathrooms and well equipped kitchens but with flat screen TV’s and satellite dishes that automatically retract when the engine starts up. All this requires on the part of the tramp and his companion a deep understanding of not just simple mechanics about which you have heard more than enough (and with luck will never hear of again), but also of electricity and plumbing.

Imagine then the surprise we all had, when trying to turn on the Nespresso machine, and the soothing blinking green lights did not come on. One can survive without a hairdryer (more of which later) but can one survive without the morning cappuccino or the evening espresso? As we were to discover when the reason was discovered, no power would be coming to the computers or the phones either. Luckily being a short distance from the factory (the discovery having been made in the parking lot of Edeka where we were having lunch – as one apparently does on such journeys), we were able to return to diagnose the problem. After all, not being able to enjoy a morning coffee could prove to be a travel breaker. The irony was not lost on our intrepid sales director since he had gone to great lengths to build the perfect home for the now useless machine. (we needn’t go into the number of email exchanges discussing the location of the special shelf for said machine between the tramp and the ISD; suffice it to say the are both German).

Dear reader, those of you with superior knowledge to the trampess, will know that all this modern equipment is designed to use a minimum of power – and even the Nespresso machine has only a simple demand for power. Sadly these simple demands are below the radar of the inverter which waits until it has a big “hello, give me some juice” before it sends power around the circuit. The technical men hummed and hawed and realised this problem was both systemic and critical to almost any modern tramp. Of course the first test of the system was to bring in a hair dryer - from the one of the engineers - as I have said before, I can live without one . A hair dryer is not a modest consumer and lets her needs be known immediately. The inverter immediately came to her rescue and the lights started flashing on the coffee machine (visions of George Clooney with a satisfied look on his face while drinking an espresso returned to the trampess’s head). And indeed the coffee machine, having had its need established in the brain of the inverter, continued to function without the hair dryer’s continued use. Not so the computers! To keep them charging the hair dryer had to be on!! It is intuitively obvious to the casual observer that one can hardly imagine having to use a hair dryer the entire time one wants to be on line! Even were I to aspire to locks like Dolly Parton, this would be overkill. Not to mention not green.

And so a second, low demand electrical circuit was devised. And now, even the Nespresso works without a hair drier (or pomade). It was not a matter of hours, but future WLW owners will suffer less because of our experience. And so once again,

And so we learn . . .

Vocabulary extends with needs, just as the Inuits have many words for snow, so have we developed many words for stress. I feel new ones coming on . . . the last few days have been intense preparation for the journey. Juergen, who is the head of sales at the firm that has made our wanderlustwagen, has become our very best friend, and we his. He is quite sure that we will never call him from the road with anxious questions – our preparation over these past few days has been exhaustive (please note the gerundive would also apply). Most people drive off after only two hours. We will drive off after 6 days and that is after the tramp spent almost a week on his only! I am apparently, even in the land of Walkueres, the first woman who has lifted a gas bottle into the vehicle and installed it (all my gym training it seems is to some functional end, not just vanity in a short sleeved dress!). He really didn’t want me to do it but the tramp insisted that there might be a time . . . . you can see then that I have not been idly taking notes (though I have done that as well – trust me attaching a trailer and driving a Smart car on to it requires many notes – even more can be added after the first attempt to follow the notes without expert guidance). Some may think that such apparent overkill before driving off is time wasted, I assure you that our efforts were repaid on our first day on the open road. Let me explain.

It was determined that our first venture forth would be only a short on: from Polch to Koblenz (for some serious food shopping – not quite Whole Foods but nearly – and this in a country which had been a culinary laughing stock not so very long ago) and then to Cologne where we would visit Globetrotter (several email exchanges had established that the tramp’s tiny – for his height – size 13 feet could be shod in appropriate trekking boots.) Naturally the WLW is equipped with extraordinary AV equipment, including satnav so this journey was expected to go without any of the difficulties experienced on the first journey the trampess made where her navigational skills (later proved to be of a superior nature) were questioned. We drove confidently to Cologne, the tramp convinced that the streets there, while not paved with gold, were wide enough for such a large vehicle as the WLW (which by this point was, of course, trailing its Smart car behind). As we were within 2 km of the destination (yes!) we turned down a one way street – followed, as one always is, by a stream of other cars – only to find that there was a largish BMW parked in front of a youth hostel (!) not of course in a parking place but in a loading zone and with its backside extending far enough into the road to allow a small car to pass but not, as you might expect, the WLW. The tramp could not leave the car (he is the only one of us with a licence to drive a 40t articulated lorry – and while the WLW is not so big, the articulation could make a blonde at the wheel with only a 7.5t licence somewhat vulnerable). So, I went in to the youth hostel and in my best German explained that someone was in the loading bay and could they move their car. I returned to the WLW and was promptly forced into policeman’s role in directing traffic around us (of course I have a flash red/orange Emergency Clothing vest for such an event but sadly forgot to don it). After a time had passed, I went back to the hostel to check on progress. Apparently they did not have any idea to whom the vehicle belonged (I have to admit that a BMW is a pretty impressive vehicle for someone staying at a youth hostel but some parents are more indulgent than the tramps). A car belonging to the hostel drove up and remarked the car had been there overnight and the only thing to do was call the police! By this time you will have gathered that backing out of the street would have caused major traffic chaos, not to mention a challenge in the extreme for even the tramp whose reversing skills are not to be under-estimated. There was only one thing to do: de-couple the Smart on its trailer, push it back to a building site (only a hundred feet or so) and then back the WLW in front of it and re-couple. Have practiced this manoeuvre a few times, I can report that we didn’t even need to refer to the notes on the computer (or for back safety sake kept on yellow post-its in my pocket). Mission accomplished we set out to find the shoes – just then the police showed up – well one tiny policewoman who proceeded to photograph the offending vehicle. Mobile phones have so many practical uses! Needless to say she did not tow away the vehicle so we continued with our plan.

Now, you can imagine that a man who has the idea to give his wife the world, would not only wish to accompany her in appropriate shoes, but would also wish her never to be lost. In the old days, ordinance survey maps were the rage. But they are bulky and to carry the whole of Europe (let alone the Silk Route) would more than fill one’s back pocket. Some hours after the shoes, a GPS system was decided upon and the loading of all the maps of Germany, Austria, and Switzerland were meant to be entered. (It is possible that France, Italy and Poland were to be entered to, but at a certain point the blonde hair kicked in and I went off for a cappuccino). I wasn’t the only one – the uploading of these magnificent machines is not to be rushed. We were encouraged to go for dinner and come back. We did, we returned, and we were sent away again. Dear reader we returned today (some 3 days later) and I finally walked off with, what I hope, is a fully loaded system.

Of course, first days are meant to expose all short-comings and make one aware of all the things one should be aware of. One of the things one should be most aware of is the turning off of the water pump once water is not needed. Suffice it to say, that our second encounter with the police was when we pulled to the side of a rather major road in downtown Cologne (as we were heading to the tramp’s birthplace) when saddening the kitchen started gushing water. I can only imagine that the cover to the sink was not in place, knocked over the soap which hit the lever on the kitchen tap and with the pump still on started a cascade. We will never, ever, forget to turn the water pump off after washing the dishes again. Luckily the tramp exuded charm when a policewoman told him he couldn’t stop where he was stopped and explained we had had an accident and would be moving on immediately. Contrary to any film you may have ever seen, she was equally charming and nothing more was said. We arrived without further incident in the tramp’s hometown and parked in front of his sister’s house. It is such a nice surprise to wake up in the morning and find a WLW outside with the milk