At long last, our beloved FiberShip has been removed from our driveway, where it has languished for two winters, and arrived at the studio. 
I can now look out the kitchen windows and see real sheep instead of painted ones! Now we have to decide if the FiberShip stays or goes. I think I’m ready for it to go.
Don’t get me wrong – it was fun. And interesting. And challenging. The first show I drove it to was NHSW. When I went to leave the fairgrounds, I took a wrong turn and ended up driving over a tiny hung bridge only one lane wide, only to find myself at a dead end with no way to turn around. The mirrors weren’t working, and I found myself having to back the camper across that little bridge with almost no ability to see where I was going. It was harrowing. I was sure I was going to end up in the creek and was kicking myself for painting sheep all over the damn thing. Bad enough that I was about to sink the Ship on its maiden voyage, but thanks to the nifty artwork, everyone would know it was me who made such an intelligent, er, asinine, move. But I made it across the bridge.
The second show I took her to was the Fiber Frolic in Maine. Ah, the good life. No sooner had I settled in than a knock was heard at the door. It was Elaine, bearing wine, chocolate, and brie. Not bad. After spending so many nights sleeping on the floor of a van or the bed of a truck, I thought “hey, I can get used to this.”
And then, on the way home, Marcy and I were too busy talking to realize we took a wrong turn and ended up in Newburyport, Massachusetts. We pulled into a Dunkin’ Donuts to get coffee before heading home again, and the Ship began backfiring so loudly that police were summoned. Neighbors thought someone was shooting off fireworks. When the police arrived, we were laughing so hysterically we were nearly in tears. That was the second time I regretted having my name and phone number painted on my vehicle.
She recovered, though. A new engine, a little work here and there, and she served us well for a few years. Each time I took her out, however, there was always something. Like driving home from southern NJ at night with no headlights. That was a challenge.
Or driving to NC in the rain and having to keep my left hand out the window to catch the windshield wiper every three wipes. That was cold.
Or the moment when I realized I had inadvertently entered the FiberShip in a Memorial Day parade in Ohio - complete with announcers and television cameras. That was embarrassing.
Over the years we worked on her and worked out most of the bugs. She’s a strong vehicle. New engine, brakes, and other parts that I can’t recall at the moment. Since the drastic reduction in our show schedule, however, she has sat – and sitting is not something that campers should do. She needs to move.
Two winters ago she inadvertently spent the winter in the driveway when we were caught off guard by an early snowfall that, when it fell from the barn roof, blocked the entry into the barn. We had waited too long to put her in storage and then found we couldn’t. She stayed in the driveway keeping a large portion of the ground bare, which naturally caused our pipes to freeze. That was expensive.
At the start of this past winter, she was parked a little forward so that the boys could play basketball. We had her running fine at the beginning of spring, but never used her over the summer or fall as we thought we would. Before winter set in, we went to start her up to move her into the barn and – nothing. We called for a tow truck, but he arrived just as a freak snowstorm did. And after that, there was too much ice and snow to move her. She wintered in the drive again. I climbed up on top often and kept her roof shoveled clean. But the high amount of ice and snow last winter meant we had this skinny tunnel of ice to walk through in order to get to the house – a feat when loaded down with groceries. And my poor little 14 year old Toyota, while it could just fit in the driveway in front of the Ship, could not make it up the incline to the road, small as it is, without getting a head start. Most mornings I had to shovel dirt off the road to put under my tires or empty the wood stove ashes in the driveway in order to get the car out of the driveway. That was a pain.
This year I was determined to move her. Life was hard last winter. I reconnected with a friend from my past who is big on feng shui. She told me energy entered from the right of the property and asked if there was anything that needed repaired on the right side of our property. Hysterical laughter followed that question. We had a dead van across the road from the house and the Ship next to the house. We managed to get the van moved, but, as mentioned earlier, the snowstorm prevented the tow truck from returning for the FiberShip.
The more I thought about the blocked energy, and the more walls we ran into this year, the more I wanted that camper to move. Tom finally had a moment this summer to pull the battery and get it charged. It wouldn’t charge. It was beyond it’s expected life. There has been no time since, however, to procure or install a new battery. All this week, as the leaves have begun to turn, I have meant to call the tow truck. Yesterday I finally remembered during the day. Tom made the call and an hour later, she arrived at the studio. Now that she is here, he will be able to either spend a moment here and there to fix her up or perhaps, sell her. I would not begrudge her a good home. It’s funny. I have looked at that camper every day, but I haven’t really looked at her in a long, long time. The paint job was a sporadic move, done in a single day.
When we bought her, she had a blue striped painted all the way around and across the front of the cab. It had been painted with a brush and looked awful. I washed her, and then ran over to the hardware store and bought a can of spray paint – purple, of course – and a roll of masking tape. I painted over that horrid blue stripe in no time. But it was such a nice day – perfect for being outside. So I ran back to the hardware store and picked up a few more cans of spray paint. I thought I would put a sheep on it somewhere, something to say this was Grafton Fibers’ vehicle. I painted a sheep. And then another. And then I was back at the hardware store for sky. And grass. And before I knew it, the entire thing was covered.
I wasn’t sure if Tom would be pleased or not. Men up the road were driving back and forth all afternoon watching me paint. I could tell they were wondering what on earth I was doing. I didn’t know if Tom was going to laugh or cry when he saw the end product. But it was good. And, I realize now, kind of eerie.
Yesterday, when I saw the camper at a distance for the first time in so long and could really take in what was on it, I was stunned when I realized that I had painted our family on every side. The passenger side (above) has five sheep on it. Tom is beneath all of us, supporting us as always. The cab of the camper has three small sheep across the front and a large sheep on each door. That’s us. Herding the kids always. 
It’s the driver’s side, though, that really gave me a start yesterday. That side has been parked facing away from the kitchen door. I haven’t looked at that side of the camper in years. As on the passenger side, there are five sheep. One large one, another with it’s head sort of on the should of the large one, one looking off into the clouds, one looking at the ground, and one looking away from the other four. That’s us. I do lean on Tom. Christopher is definitely off in the clouds. Nick is the grounded one. And Justin – he’s ready to go off in the world and do his own thing. 
What is even weirder, however, is that below us there are three sheep with no eyes. All the other sheep have eyes. These three are huddled together like witches. And it has been a huddle of three women that have brought so much grief to bear on our family this past year. One friend that I pointed this out to immediately suggested I paint eyes on those sheep – bring some light into them, so to speak. While that seems like a great idea, I also think that perhaps by having them situated so that energy leaving this property has to go through them, perhaps it will assist in removing their negative influence over us. A little too weird? Perhaps.
When I looked at the camper yesterday and made the connection, I pulled Tom outside to look at it with me. He thinks I’m nuts. Maybe. It’s been a tough year. Stress does funny things to people. And then again, maybe not. Looking at her now, part of me wants to keep her, but part of me feels it is time for her to go. If you can provide her with a good home, let us know.
I rarely wear red, but I love working with red. Sometimes it is good to see red.
