We’ve been visiting with Tricia’s dad in his motorhome down in the Rio Grande Valley.

Actually his story sounds a lot like a Jack Nicholson movie. His wife was the one who looked forward to retiring to a life of traveling the country but she passed away from cancer just months before her intended retirement. Tricia’s dad (whose name is also Bill) bought the motorhome anyway, but he does not really travel much. Back and forth between Missouri and south Texas once a year. Last year he did not even do that, electing to spend the summer in Texas.

Thousands of other so-called “winter Texans” do the same thing. The RV park where Bill is staying has room for 800 rigs and it is just one of many in the area. Some of them are motorhomes; others are traditional trailers or “fifth wheels” which attach to a saddle mounted in the bed of a pickup. Each has their advantages.

The license plates on the cars reveal where the people are from. Mostly the states directly north of Texas. Kansas, Missouri, Nebraska, Illinois, Minnesota, on up to Ontario and Quebec. Not that many from the east or west coasts. Mostly they drive huge diesel pickups if they pull trailers. The ones who have motorhomes wind up having to tow small cars behind them so they will have a way of getting around once they park. Otherwise they have to unhook the electrical and sewer connections and maneuver around a 60-foot vehicle everytime they need to go to the grocery store.

Like migrating birds they tend to come back to the same park year after year. Some of them eventually get tired of the driving and just park their rigs permanently. They might decide to live there year-round or else drive back and forth in a car or take the plane, in which case the trailer just becomes a small vacation house.

It’s amazing how much can be packed into one of these things. It has a full kitchen with a sink, stove, oven, refrigerator and freezer; a bathroom with tub and shower; two televisions; even a washer and dryer. There are little built-in storage places everywhere. It probably seems roomy for one or two people. With more it reminds me of a puzzle - you can’t move from one place to another without someone else having to move first to get out of your way. Therefore you need to be pretty sedentary to stay inside very long.

The park is like a small retirement community on wheels. There is a recreation center with classrooms and organized activities, a swimming pool and a gym, shuffleboard courts. There are dances in the rec hall on Saturday night and church services on Sunday morning. Inside the park people get around on bikes or golf carts or else walk. All the accomodations are small so people are forced outside. Everyone seems to know everything about everyone else. This time of year especially, when many are still arriving from the north, the air is filled with gossip and everyone is exchanging stories about what’s been going on since last year.

South Texas is comfortable this time of year. Temperatures were in the 70’s this week although a jacket was nice in the evening. Not a cloud in the sky. I thought it was just about perfect although a little windy. We sat outside with Bill or sat by the window inside watching a steady stream of people on the street outside, going to and from the rec hall or just out for a stroll. He would tell us the name of each person as they passed and something about them - where they were from, what lot they were parked in or what kind of rig they drove, maybe even a story about their personal life.

One thing they all had in common was that they were old enough to be retired. We never saw a child or a teenager. Mostly in fairly good health, for this is not a life style for somebody who needs to be under a doctor’s care.

South Texas is a fairly inexpensive place to live and Mexico is just a half hours drive away with even cheaper shopping. Everyone goes across the border for their prescriptions. You can park and walk across the bridge or drive if you don’t mind the wait it takes to get back across these days.