We had two winners of galleys and moose poop for March: Jessie Bowdoin and Dennis Myers. I'll post Jessie's entry in the next week, but herewith, Dennis' (The topic was "Travel Stories from HELL."):

Contest Entry: The First and Last Trip From Hell

Early in my marriage with the family (three daughters and a perfectionist wife) we relocated to So Cal (that's Southern California for those who have not watched TV) and life was just too good at the time. I set out to fix that!

I was compelled to screw with it by talking my wife into a camping trip. Why? Just seemed like a good thing at the time. I sold it to a reluctant spouse who thought roughing it on the road was running out of ice in her drink sitting by the pool.

Had we ever camped as a family? Of course not! No experience and having never driven an RV were just lame excuses. It was one of the times I forced the issue and actually won! It was a bad omen that I should have recognized. I never won arguments! Probably some sort of reverse psychology my wife employed to teach me a lesson (again).

So off we went heading in a Northernly direction with the goal of seeing as much of California as we could in two weeks.

The first campground was a State Park. My wife was concerned about security of our belongings. "People that camp are honest folks," I replied. That was before a camper ran off with some of our cooking utensils. Strike one, but always a good conversation starter for the next campground.

The first night was painful (I refer back to my wife's definition of "roughing it"). The girls did sleep soundly, but I had no peace at all. Speaking of peace, I had also declared that I was going to grow a beard for the trip, whereupon my darling said I would get no "piece" if I grew a beard or mustache. She was true to her word. I refused to shave, so you had the classic "Russian standoff." I will leave it to the reader to guess who ultimately won the standoff.

Second night, second State Park. My wife marched the girls off for showers before bed. (There were no such things at the first camp ground.) I hear screaming and yelling that sounded like a mass murder was occurring in the shower room, but it was worse! My wife came marching back for dry pajamas for the girls because one of them accidentally knocked the first set of pj's into the watery shower stall. Again no peace or piece.

The third and fourth day were rather uneventful compared to the first two nights. Just some miserable weather, near misses on the highway, and a needed assortment of wrong turns. Now I was not having fun either. I also learned that being in a confined space filled with four unhappy females was not a good thing.

In one last and futile attempt to have fun, I found a swimming hole in a camp near the Northern California mountains. I sold the girls on how this was the way to go swimming--just like I did as a kid. Lot's more fun than those antiseptic heated swimming pools. I rushed for the water and dove in head first. Even with a beard there was no way to shelter the body from the numbing cold of that mountain water. I skipped out of that water much like a flat stone you would skip across the surface of that pool of tranquility.

Actually I had experienced that sensation once before. Suffering from a hangover on a spring break from college I dove into Lake Huron in Northern Michigan with the same results. The good news there was that my hangover cleared up real fast!

Needless to say after the swimming hole farce, I declared we were returning home as fast as that RV could take us. My audience showed agreement with total silence that lasted for the entire return trip.

So, two weeks shrank to one week, I had no peace or piece, and never again attempted to do a camping trip with the family. You know, as things go, running out of ice at the pool and calling for room service is not all bad. I got some peace and some pieces. I chalked it up as one of my many learning experiences.

The irony of this is that Dennis is the new editor of Bus Conversions magazine. Did his family come around to the "joys" of camping? Or, are his wheels forever clipped? Perhaps Dennis will enlighten us...

(Quick warning: Dennis is a gourmet cook, but plans to use his moose poop to fool guests in various mousses. I'd also love to hear about THAT, Dennis.)

And, if you'd like to try your hand at the contest to win a galley of QUEEN OF THE ROAD (sigh, and the ever-more-popular moose poop) the topic this month is in honor of April Fools' Day. You still have until the end of the month to enter.